Legacy of the Bloodline
by Dark Asseigai
Summary: (Sequel to The Dark Veil of Hatred): Twenty years have passed since Grindelwald's demise, but along with his family, Harry finds himself caught in the middle as Voldemort reignites the fires of war once again...
1. Reunions

"Legacy of the Bloodline" (Sequel to The Dark Veil of Hatred…)   
  
Chapter 1 – Reunions   
  
Isn't it strange how the fortunes of men and women alike can change in the blink of an eye? Likewise, is it not just as perplexing how times themselves change, as do the thoughts and feelings of those living their day to day lives? Some of them, agreeably for the better… others for the worse, and some, without the scarcest idea as to why they're alive or what their true place or purpose in society is… That is the meaning of life. The fundamental existence that each and every person on this planet holds true with each other, regardless of friend or foe, relation or acquaintance, superior or underling. It is the same, as it always has been from one generation to the next, though only enhanced and altered by standards of thinking at the time of their conception… a marvel of nature, and time's continuity as it spins in cycles like that of a great wheel. All encompassing. Scholars might debate that we humans are but pawns in this never ending rotation. That nothing of our own doing or creation can affect the cycle of time, life and death. But is that really true? Perhaps… perhaps not.   
  
A small minority of the more dignified and educated in social standing believe otherwise to this pre-ordained reality. Many people forget how short a time ago it was that this earth was contested by two separate species. Both of the same blood, and sharing the same, basic genetic structure that defined what it is to be human. Yet both were slightly different in minute, but distinctive respects… and both separated thousands of years ago, with hundreds of consecutive generations passing in turn afterwards. The result, a caste society, where one strain of humanity lived their daily lives completely oblivious to the other, that in truth, had silently, but vaguely watched them from behind magical barriers. The gift that had come with their separation. It was one of the greatest ironies of this age and many ages before and possibly yet to come. The caste, devoid of this magical ability, named the Muggle, had made do without the trappings or even the knowledge of magic's existence. Relying on their superior logic and technological means, they spawned cities kilometers across at their greatest distances, and uncovered many secrets of our universe that we so humbly share on this minute piece of rock. An achievement that is incredible to comprehend as it was once the case where they too could wield magic in all it's vaunted glory.   
  
However… Watching in vague disinterest from beyond their magical barriers, the second of the two castes, this one aptly named the Wizard, stood reserved and tired in their own society, looking down upon their Muggle counterparts with lethargy and in some cases, disgusted prejudice. Holding within them the gifts of magic, the Wizard society lived and breathed in solidarity, convinced of it's supremacy over the Muggle race that had in truth, grown for many years out of check. This is not fault finding, but is evident of how power and influence can toy with a person's mind. Outside on the shallow surface, Wizard kind saw Muggles as a separate species. Totally and utterly different to wizards, they were to be hated, disregarded as people, or nurtured as children at best. Undeserving of any kind of respect. And yet, some wizards, who understood better than anyone the intelligence and significance of the muggle race, cowered from behind their barriers, living in denial of the capabilities of their counterparts. Maybe it was due to lack of interest, or perhaps it was fear, to this day scholars debate even over such a trivial question. But what was certain is that wizard society grew to the point where contact with muggles should cease at all costs. As generations past, it became common practice to simply ignore the race that shared the same planet with them, and sought confidence in letting the ever growing muggle population stew in their own tainted DNA on the other side of the ancient barrier magic, known in the common tongue as wards.  
  
This is where our story begins. Two races… ignorant of each other to the point of madness, were suddenly, and violently, thrown together in the midst of sadistic plots, made solely by the dark wizard Grindelwald at the height of his power and influence. The shock of it all proving so overwhelming, that in sheer terror, both opposing parties lashed out at each other. Their fear driving them insane as people on either side of the conflict were slaughtered and killed, the spectacle not ending until the mental grip that Grindelwald held on both races was abruptly severed by the actions of a young, sixteen year old boy.   
  
Born of wizard blood but forced through circumstance to live amongst his detestable muggle relatives, Harry James Potter was pulled back into his heritage at the tender age of eleven, rejoining the wizard world, and developing his magical skills until finally in his sixth year attending Hogwarts school of witch craft and wizardry, he suddenly became so powerful, that he killed Grindelwald and single handedly ended the war that had spread not only throughout Britain, but the rest of the known world as well.   
  
The change wrought by this unexpected end of hostilities was immense. Without barriers separating the two races, each eyed each other warily for a while, suspicions as to what the other were thinking running high in their minds. But once the truth of the muggle incentive in the war became known, that it was in fact MAGICAL intervention that had brought about it's wrath on the stagnating wizard world, the muggles made no efforts to hold back a swift and utter apology, pledging whatever level of resources and man-power it took, so as to ensure relations between the two races would be peaceful and permanent.   
  
It cannot be denied that thousands of years of ignorance could not simply be overlooked so easily, the wizards contemplating the idea with great reluctance and hesitation. Yet whatever voices there were against the muggle proposal, all were crushed underfoot, with a history making agreement of peace signed between the two races on the very field that so many members of either caste had lost their lives. And on that day… a new world was born.  
  
Textbooks refer to this is as the moment that all fear, apprehension, pride and arrogance was removed from the wizard race. The two completely different societies were joyously combined, each supplementing the other society's weaknesses with inventions or capabilities that more often than not brought stunned silences of surprise or awe for every time that they were used. Knowledge passed down through generations was shared by the learned throughout libraries and academic societies. Awareness of their new friends and allies, spreading like wildfire within the classrooms of muggle and wizard students alike, amazement giving way to intrigue before the monumental step of acceptance finally took place. The new generation of muggle and wizard children, growing up in a wonderland of prosperity, education, and adventure. No advance can ever be so regarded in history as this, short of the great casting that had originally cut the two civilizations apart. With friends abound and advances continuing to better the two societies, the decision was made, and what was once two races… became one.   
  
Naturally however, the truth of it all was covered up despite everyone's best intentions. Had the young Harry Potter not intervened when he did, there was no guessing as to how far Grindelwald's manipulating tyranny would have stretched. But what is certain, was that Harry, despite however raw and inexperienced in magic he was, had grown to become a true hero, not to only to wizards, but to the entire world as well. A symbol of the strength and courage that would define humanity in the years to come. A testament and idle for children to aspire and stories to be told… and yet, he was forgotten… Forgotten so ruthlessly and conveniently that generations to come would learn of the combined muggle, wizard peace, as merely an event destined to happen, without knowing so much as who it was owed, nor how it had come about. The unfairness and unjust nature of it all stabbed ruefully at those closest to him, who knew Harry's contribution and could do nothing to reverse public knowledge, having being silenced themselves by the stubborn nature of the combined muggle, wizard governments.   
  
His dues were unpaid. Harry Potter, the boy who was a godsend to the light, and a cancer to the dark, was promptly cast aside as the world celebrated it's own good fortune and prosperity, convinced that it was the efforts of the whole, and not a skinny sixteen year old that had truly saved humanity… Sure enough, as the weeks went by, Harry became disillusioned to the new world. Left to stew whilst confined in a castle, something happened. A thought perhaps, had passed sinuously through his mind… And he disappeared. Lost as so many unnamed people had done before, all trace of Harry Potter ceased to exist save for the memories and emotions of the people he left behind. He was a martyr of the war, and was never seen again…  
  
That… was Twenty years ago… now nothing more than a dim memory as the world population reached greater and greater heights, whilst never truly knowing as to who it owed it all. Again this touches on what scholars refer to as life. It is a cycle, that is unending and unbending. What has happened before, can and will happen again, as it has been in the past. It can be said that skeptics still debate over whether this is true or just merely a waste of time thinking about, but in answer to their ridiculous criticisms, one event happened that would prove beyond doubt that this wheel of life truly does exist. Not recognizable at first, and not an end to the greatness of the new world order, there was a beginning.   
  
Oh yes… it was a beginning… Days before the annual celebration of the war's retiring veterans, the world bore host to one who'd not been seen for more than two decades. Unknowing as the public was, life continued as it always had since the peace agreement was signed so long ago. But still, that presence remained. Hardened by the remnants of a dying world giving way to the new, this person knew only that there were people he must see and things he must do before he could truly leave the pages of history. That perhaps he had but one last act to commit before he threw in the towel and retired to a peaceful life indefinitely. Compulsion it was. The inner desire to believe one's work was not yet finished, touched at this man. Perhaps it was for the best, as great deeds would occur with his coming. Whether good or bad it remained difficult to determine, but as said before, it was not an end… it was a beginning.  
  
With mere days counting down to the much anticipated world remembrance day and the celebration that was sure to follow, the world saw in it's eyes once more the martyr that had brought it all about. The godsend of the light and the cancer of the dark. With the world preparing in naïve commemoration of old heroes…   
  
The forgotten wizard, returned…  
  
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A scarred hand was first to emerge from the glowing blue gateway as the transportation portal slowly opened in the International Carrying Center. One of over a thousand identical devices, the portal stood bolted to the reinforced concrete wall, the incredible pressures building on the gateway as it opened, near impossible to disregard for the safety of people traveling from country to country between them. In the twenty years that had passed since the international peace agreement was signed, Gate travel had become near common place, and from it's introduction, quickly overtook the old fashioned method of Apparating as the most popular form of transport over long distances, particularly for large numbers of people.   
  
Shuddering briefly, the gateway fell silent after a moment as numerous stasis fields and shielding charms immediately took hold and stabilized the portal, the shaking mass of blue energy quickly stilling to a semi transparent film, of which to enter, could take you hundreds, perhaps even thousands of miles away. The hand continued to extend out of the gateway as it's owner, clad in long, flowing black robes, emerged from seeming nothingness, the figure's body integrating into a solid mass on contact with the air. It was a man. Though his entire body was hidden beneath the shrouding abyss of his cloak, strong, well toned features were well visible pressing against the dark linen from inside. Several young ladies, two of them clearly muggle whilst the others sporting robes of their own, quickly stared in his direction, giggling amongst themselves as they eyed the new comer clearing the portal, the blue glow of the gateway rippling suddenly before it flashed bright and disappeared, leaving only a round shell with the solid wall clearly visible behind it.  
  
With his hood pulled low over his face, no one could see his eyes, nothing but an emotionless visage of a mouth visible within it's shadows. Yet when he turned to face the goggling stares of the young girls, their eyes widened in apprehension and quickly darted away, feeling as though they were well visible despite the hood. The man gave a detestable grunt as he turned his head the other way, his teeth grinding as he stared over the thousands of people that filled the football sized Carrying Center. Merely one of hundreds scattered around the world within the last twenty years, the center stood three levels high. Each level supporting a mixture of arrival or departure gateways, that activated every so often when a magical or technological request was made of it. Strange humming noises reverberated about the man as each portal opened itself in turn before disintegrating and readying itself for use again. Of all things made of mankind, gateway travel could be considered one of the more ingenious, though the figure showed no signs of being impressed by what he saw.   
  
Gate travel was essentially the product of muggle ingenuity, combined with raw magic, to create a system of travel that was destined to span the world over. Despite his dark appearance though, the man seemed no more noticed than any other person traveling by gateway, who quite definitely looked like someone who didn't want to be noticed. Yet none of the milling thousands of people bustling about him carrying or levitating suitcases with them paid him any mind, all accepting that he was just another of the milling mass who'd arrived for whatever reason, most likely for Remembrance day celebrations, that were soon to commence there and then in muggle / wizard London, the new capital of the fledging world state, birthplace of the current world order. Perhaps this ruse would be a sensible disguise for his activities, the man didn't know. Yet as he glanced about himself he could not help but feel coldness towards the thousands of wizards and muggles wandering through the center, mindlessly enjoying the benefits peace offered between their two races. Something bothered him about that, but he would roll in his grave before he told anyone else he didn't trust, why that was so.   
  
Sweeping out of the terminal in his long swishing robes, the man paid no heed to anyone who crossed his path, plowing through hordes of eager travelers to shouts of annoyance and anger to his back. He didn't care though, no matter what they thought. Mindless twits they were, but they would understand soon enough, though by that time it would be too late. Onwards he walked, the milling masses of people beginning to part for him against the natural tide of the crowd. Some gave him odd glances, others made rude gestures with their hands of which he didn't recognize, and there were even those, who scooted meekly out of his way the moment they breathed his presence. Soon enough, many more people may consider doing just the same thing. The thought was savage in his mind, but a true reflection of his thoughts at the time. As he walked on he could not help but stare himself at a small group of muggle and wizard school students, huddled together in a mass of grey uniforms and black robes, all paying stout attention to a handsome lady in finely pressed clothes before them, speaking in very informative tones.  
  
'Gateway Taihendral,' she began aloud, the students hanging on her every word, 'Is one of the largest Carrier centers in Britain, servicing London and the international community.' Pens and quills immediately began jotting down information on their own, hovering behind their owners whilst writing furiously. 'Within these walls, over a thousand identical portal devices, transport hundreds of thousands of people every day with pure and clean, instantaneous travel. Derived from port key magic, gateway travel is a much safer alternative as it does not linger on the edge of the savage dimension known as Limbo. It is recorded in the days before Gateways, that during the war, many people traveling by port key were taken by Heliopaths before they could reach their destination. Naturally no one truly knows for sure, since none of these victims have returned to tell the tale. But port keys were a simple magic that has been outdone by this blending with muggle technology. Behold before you children, this is the past, present and future…'  
  
The lady continued to ramble on as the man noticed some students furiously underline her last words. Past, present and… future? Turning away he continued onwards, the sounds of the class behind him lulling down to a buzzing fly, as he pushed and forced his way once more through the multitudes of people.   
  
Of a sudden he stopped dead in his tracks, a football sized contraption of metal flying up to him and hovering near his face. He could define what seemed to be a painted clown face on it's exterior holding on it a joyous laugh as it floated there in front of him, blocking his way to the customs area. A small speaker rose out of a compartment in it's top and pointed at him, a robotic voice blaring from within.  
  
'HI!' it roared, earning another grinding pair of teeth from the hooded man. This wasn't at all what he wanted to be delayed by, at best it looked like a flying garbage can with a speaker poking out of it's head. The hovering robot continued on it it's own annoying tone, 'We here at Telsacom corporation would just like to extend our warmest hand of friendship and welcome you fine traveler to Gateway Taihendral, International Carrier Center of London, the jewel city of the world. It's our pleasure to invite you on a scenic tour of this fantastic place and all the wonders that it and the Telsacom corporation has to offer you as a visitor to our wonderful city!'  
  
The robot paused for a moment before another compartment opened at it's side and started firing off miniature fireworks, filling the air with a putrid white smoke as it zoomed about the man's head in wild circles, before it stopped and continued blaring it's nonsense.  
  
'We at Telsacom corporation, would just like to remind you about Remembrance day celebrations that are due to commence within three days time. London will be the center piece of the giant fireworks display that is due to wow crowds even more so this year than any other previously, and that's just one of thousands of reasons to explore the city that I could explain to you RIGHT NOW!!!'  
  
The man grunted detestably once more and pushed the contraption away with a good shove, sending it cart-wheeling through the air in uncontrolled spins.  
  
'Some other time perhaps.' He spoke acidly to it, continuing on his walk. The robot hovered there momentarily behind before it seemed to gather it's courage again, and once more zoomed ahead, darting around so close in front of him that he almost ran into it. Black leather gloves couldn't hide his hands balling into fists, a sure sign his skin was going white underneath from the strain. The little robot's speaker rose up out of it's head once more.  
  
'Don't forget to get a Telsacom pamphlet when you enter the city. We here at Telsacom corporation just love to hear your feedback!'  
  
'I'd love to, except you are blocking my way… move, now.'  
  
The robot moved closer still to the man's face, it's clown like expression looking more hideous than ever up close than the man could have predicted, and his anger spiked in frustration. It continued to shout at him.  
  
'Don't forget, don't forget, collect pamphlets, Pamphlets, PAMPHLETS!'  
  
And all of a sudden some invisible force smashed the robot together from both sides like a concertina, before another club of air crushed it again from the top and bottom. Again and again and again the machine compacted together from different angles, it's robotic voice getting more and more flexed and distorted, before glowing sparks began flying from it as it shorted out and dropped to the floor with a clang, drawing several people's attention. Almost as quickly as it started, the cloaked man grinded the machine into the tiled floor with his foot, before it once more lifted into the air, and flew spiraling to his right, rebounding off the wall into a rubbish bin. He grated his teeth in annoyance, at the people who deliberately pulled their eyes away from him and kept on walking. The man muttered beneath his breath.  
  
'Pathetic machines!' he spoke, before he once again continued on, walking up to a counter labeled 'Customs', where a robed woman behind it was busily signing off people leaving the Carrier Center. The man watched closely as she dealt with another traveler in front of him, a short balding man who was wider than he was tall. Having his wand inspected and turned, doing out his pockets as requested. In a few moments he had packed his things and left, leaving him face to face with the smiling lady, who's pretty features seemed to droop slightly at not being able to see her client's face from beneath his hood.  
  
'Good morning sir. Are you carrying any magical items upon your person?'  
  
The man shook his head for a no.  
  
'And are you carrying guns, knives, sharp objects or any other magically enhanced weapons?'  
  
Again he shook his head, this time waving about his hands in gesture that he carried nothing with him, not even a suitcase. The lady nodded, a pen and paper floating next to her, ticked off the items as she spoke. The man's eyes could not help but hover over it. Immediately after, the lady reached out towards him with her hand.  
  
'Passport please, it needs to be stamped before I can let you any further.'  
  
The man reached into his pocket and revealed an aging booklet, sliding it onto the woman's desk, which she promptly seized and opened to the first page. A dozen or so stamps suddenly flew about her and frantically began pounding the pages on their own as she turned them over… then she stopped, and stared disbelievingly at one of the pages. The stamps themselves seemed to have stopped as well, and instead hovered around her head as if trying to get a good look at what she was staring at.  
  
'Sir?' she asked suddenly, 'May I ask where it is you acquired this passport from?'  
  
The man stayed silent, staring at the lady from beneath his hood. The woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  
  
'Sir?!' she inquired again, this time a little more forcefully. The man continued to remain mute as her eyes studied him carefully, a slight bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. Quickly she turned to the last page, where her eyes widened in surprise. Looking once more from the booklet to the man in front of her, she threw the booklet back at him, of which he failed to catch, the paper rebounding off his chest and falling to the tiled floor, opened at the page where the name of the passport holder should be. Nothing was there but a large, "CLASSIFIED" sprawled across it in bold, red letters.  
  
'That passport is military issue if you didn't realize sir. And judging by the date on it, it hasn't been updated to the current version for at least six years. ALL military passports must be updated EVERY year no matter what, so as to comply with international law, and since this one is not… I can only assume that you obtained it illegally. Therefore it is my duty to deny you entry to London, turn around whoever you are! Go back to where you came from!'  
  
The man stood stone still, not moving a muscle as the young witch eyed him scathingly, but merely looked down at his dropped passport and picked it up, before once more putting it down on her desk in front of her.  
  
'I feel you don't quite understand my situation Miss, I cannot be denied entry…' he took an aggressive step forwards, the lady arching back slightly in fear, 'I will NOT be denied entry. Do you understand?!'  
  
'I'm calling security Mr!' and her hand darted for the telephone next to her, but only had time enough to grab the receiver before the man suddenly clicked his fingers in the air, the woman freezing mid motion, her eyes becoming unfocussed and looking cross eyed before realigning themselves, her hand slackening on the phone.  
  
'I am afraid I cannot let you do that Miss, I will be allowed entry to London. Stamp my passport immediately thanks.'  
  
For a moment the lady sat there confused, her eyes not truly looking at the black robed man before her, but staring off into the distance at something no one else could see.  
  
'Yes…' she managed out after a while, her voice gone monotone as she continued to stare at nothing, 'Welcome to London sir…' and she trailed off, the stamps hurriedly pounding the final pages, before she picked up the aging booklet and hazily handed it back to him, looking lost and confused.  
  
'Thankyou very much.' The man spoke once more, pushing the book into his robe pockets before continuing on through customs.  
  
'Don't mention it…' the woman replied dreamily, though the man had already wandered too far away to hear...   
  
Far from the sprawling chaos of the big city, isolated in the solitude of a quiet woodland, away from prying eyes, a young woman with striking red hair stood alone amidst the trees. Light shining through the woodland canopy in patches, radiated elegantly off her hair as she stood there silently, her eyes closed in contemplation, her breathing, slow and steady. Nothing could be heard around her but the sounds of nature. Ground dwelling animals rummaging around with their daily business, bird's wings beating the air. A sense of peace washed over her in a way that little else could. Peace and contentment… nothing could spoil this moment…  
  
A sudden beeping noise immediately distracted her from apparent serenity, her eyes opening in annoyance as the irritating sound drove like piercing nails through her head. She breathed a regretful sigh.  
  
'She better have a good reason for annoying me at this time of the day.' She muttered, scathingly, before she pulled back the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a small wrist watch. A little red light flickered on it every few seconds. Holding the watch near her face, she pressed a round button on it's side and spoke into it.  
  
'This had better be good mum, I'd like to have some time to myself just once in a while. You know, just me and Genevieve. What do you want?'  
  
All of a sudden, she drew back, a holographic image of an old lady's face with once red, but now graying hair, appearing before her, wearing what appeared to be a rather hurt looking scowl.  
  
'Oh really Ginny, is that any way to speak to your poor old mother, after everything I've done for you?'  
  
Ginny sighed again, her eyes slightly downcast with an image in her head of her mother with hands on hips in that way she always did when offended.  
  
'Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, I…'  
  
The face staring at her raised a mollified eyebrow before shaking her head, cutting Ginny off.  
  
'It's alright dear, I know you didn't mean anything by it. If anything, you're probably the most considerate person in the family. In all my years I haven't heard you put a foot wrong…'  
  
This time it was Ginny's turn to raise an eyebrow, looking a tad more suspicious than usual. Her mother's face in the hologram flickered a little, her mouth working somewhat.  
  
'…Well, not that much wrong at least. I guess I have to be politically correct. You know me… but, no, I should get the point. I'm sorry I'm pestering you again dear, especially since this is the only holiday you've got away from work at the Ministry and all… How's Genevieve?'  
  
Ginny turned her head slightly, looking through the trees at a young girl, nearing her eleventh birthday, who skipped playfully through the foliage. She looked the spitting image of Ginny, but with hair a subtle blend of red and black, tied behind her head in a pony tail with a large red bow. Ginny smiled, proud of her daughter as she skipped about without a care in the world, unknown to her the horrors that her mother had witnessed in her lifetime. Warmth spread to Ginny's heart, as Genevieve looked up at her with those bright, green eyes and gave a cute curtsy, before turning about and running away through the trees… Those green eyes… those haunting eyes.  
  
She turned back to her mother, who watched her patiently through the hologram.  
  
'She's fine mum. She hasn't a care in the world, and is looking forward to Hogwarts. It isn't long until she'll be enrolled you know.'  
  
Molly Weasley put on a proud smile, stretching from ear to ear as a silent tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
'Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten. Dear me, how long it has been. Seems like only yesterday that it was you who was being waved off to Hogwarts. And now…' she sniffled slightly, '… now my grandchildren are leaving for it too. Oh Ginny you don't know how proud of you I am.'  
  
Ginny could not help but shed a tear herself, and raised a quivering hand to the hologram, entwining it with that of her mother on the other side, before it passed through the technological illusion.  
  
'Yes Ginny, you've made me a very proud woman indeed. You have raised a fine daughter. I only wish her father was able to see her live and grow. Oh… bless his soul… sometimes she looks so much like him… but, oh I'm sorry Ginny. I didn't mean to upset you. It's been too long I know, but he's still out there somewhere. You'll see him again I'm sure of it. Never lose faith.'  
  
Ginny nodded to herself, though the memories still felt painful to think about. How much of his daughter's life had he missed. She counted the years in her head… all of them it seemed. Genevieve needed a male influence at home, yes she needed it so desperately indeed. Sometimes it even hurt to think on that, knowing how much of man her father was. Heroic… and forgotten.  
  
'Don't worry mum,' she replied to the hologram, wiping away her tears, 'I'll never lose hope, I think of him every day… but at the same time, I don't think I'm the person I once was.'  
  
Molly looked to her daughter with sympathy in her eyes, that proud look still evident in her eyes.  
  
'You remind me of your father Ginny, when you know who was at power. How much I missed him when he was away… But never lose hope Ginny, never. Though your name may have changed, you're always a Weasley at heart. I just wanted you to remember that.'  
  
Ginny smiled as the hologram disappeared, the red light on her watch switching off at last. Looking up around herself she admired the trees, standing so tall and resolute. They outlasted everything, and didn't need to worry about losing their loved ones, as she had so long ago. Sometimes is brought about pity in herself, other times, anger. But always there was that familiar sadness that came from living alone. Knowing that her bed was designed for two people instead of one. That one person who often cried herself to sleep in loneliness. How cold the nights had become since then.  
  
Turning about she walked from the woods, her feet somehow guiding her to the walking track that led home. Her mind was now a hideous mish mash of depressing thoughts, though when the image of Genevieve came into head, somehow she felt better than before. It was useless she knew to grieve for the past, when her daughter was the future. She needed her mother to be strong for her at this time of need. Pretty soon she was headed for Hogwarts, as Ginny had done herself no less than twenty years ago. Though now she understand that Hogwarts was different than she'd remembered, because of the war and all… because of the intervention of the muggles. Sometimes she wished that there hadn't been a war, but looking about herself at the world today, she knew that neither race would have listened had they not crossed arms. But as with everything else, that was past. Only the future mattered to her now. Genevieve must be safely guided into her own life. That was all that required her concern.   
  
Clearing the trees out into a wide expanse of green fields, she looked ahead to her house, a small cottage surrounded by garden beds, overflowing with colorful life abundant. It was a gift to her from her parents when she left The Burrow, something afforded to her as being the only girl of the house. Her mother had a lot of say in that decision, her father went along with whatever she'd said at the time. And now she was thankful for it. Casting her eyes over the brown, thatched roof, which seemed a rarity in this day and age, she wandered around towards the front door of the house. Genevieve had come home earlier, there was no doubt she would be inside, looking for lemonade. Of all things she seemed attached to the muggle soft drink, and it was a favorite of hers whenever the days became just a little too hot. Most likely she was rummaging through the fridge right now to find where she'd hidden the bottle. Such a clever girl she was…  
  
As she rounded the corner and neared the front door, Ginny's mouth dropped open in shock... Scorched with flame and still emitting smoke, the front door laid violently blasted inwards, only splinters of wood hanging loosely from the frame where the ornately carved entrance had once been. Stark terror quickly engulfed her, a single thought presently speeding through Ginny's mind… Genevieve! Quickly Ginny rushed inside, withdrawing her wand without realizing it and pointing it around corners as she searched the house from top to bottom. Her heart rate increased in fear and trepidation. Oh if something had happened to Genevieve…  
  
Slowly she inched herself about a doorframe, into the girl's room. Pretty, pink wallpaper covered the walls in strips. Flowers and fairies abundant over them as Ginny and her daughter had designed it when Genevieve had been only six years old. A wide, window letting in light from the far end of the room often let in the morning rise. That too was covered by ornately woven curtains that hung loosely to either end, tied at the middle. Scanning the room over her eyes swept over the furniture inside…  
  
'Genevieve?…' she called hopefully. A shallow breathing answered her.  
  
'I'm in here mother.' The young girl replied from a corner, seeming a little more shaken than usual. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
'Oh thank goodness you're safe. Come to me please…' but surprisingly, Genevieve shook her head vigorously, her eyes sidling to her left where there didn't appear to be anything nearby.  
  
'I… I can't.' she spoke softly, her eyes not meeting her mother's, '… he won't let me.'  
  
Ginny froze where she stood and raised her wand fearfully, just in time to see a dark figure suddenly materialize out of thin air at Genevieve's side, a black cloak pulled over his body and a low hood drooping down over his eyes. Only his mouth was visible, straight and emotionless. Ginny felt sure however that he was staring right at her, piercing eyes melting into her head. She pointed her wand viciously towards him, her teeth gritted so tightly they grinded together.  
  
'Get away from her… or I swear on my grave I'll kill you where you stand!' she demanded, her hands trembling on her wand hilt in desperation. The man stared back, Ginny was sure of it, but acted not on the feisty woman's insistence. Instead, he moved a black gloved hand over the young girl and placed it on Genevieve's right shoulder. The little girl visibly paled, whilst something close to a smile hinted at the stranger's mouth. Ginny's fear and temper sky rocketed.  
  
'You were warned! STUPEFY!' she roared, a red, winding spell blasting from her wand towards the cloaked man… But something happened then that Ginny just couldn't fathom. The stranger reacted quickly, and put up his free hand, the spell hitting it and rebounding off into the ceiling with a bang, apparently having no effect on him at all. Then with a twist of his fingers, Ginny's wand flew from her hands, into the strangers black gloves. Another larger bead of sweat rolled down the side of Ginny's face.  
  
'I swear…if you hurt I'm going to…' she couldn't quite think of what to say, her mind was nothing but a blur of fear. The stranger smiled beneath his hood, a small mark of satisfaction at the red haired woman's confusion.  
  
'What will you do exactly?' the man asked her questionably, leaving Ginny surprised and lost for words. She stuttered incoherently, even as Genevieve looked between the two curiously, something sparking in her head. Ginny couldn't tell, but the color seemed to have returned to the girl's face. She no longer seemed as scared. Her though, she was petrified with fear, though it was a dull fear.  
  
'You don't know, do you?' he asked again, seeming more of a statement than a question. Ginny just stood there silently, her mouth working. Without her wand, here truly wasn't anything she could do… they were both at his mercy.  
  
'Do not fear… I mean no harm to you. As I mean no harm to your daughter either. I'm sorry if I scared you with the front door, but locks do little but annoy me these days. I'm not as patient as I once was…'  
  
Ginny stared back disbelievingly, her teeth still gritted in fear and defiance. The man's mouth tightened a little.  
  
'You don't believe me… do you? I thought not. Here then, take your daughter back, and take your wand as well. If it suits you, strike me down and I'll do nothing to save myself. If anything I deserve it for scaring you so.' And he pushed Genevieve towards Ginny, throwing her wand back to her as well, which she caught off handedly.  
  
Raising the magical piece of wood at the man, she knew she wanted to kill him. Yes he did deserve it… But then again, had he truly meant harm to them, he could quite easily have killed them both a hundred times over in the time he spent just standing there, and it appeared he was a far greater wizard than she were a witch. Slowly, reluctantly… she lowered her wand, receiving a smile in return from the hooded man.  
  
'Who are you?' she asked, still keeping a firm hold on her wand handle. The man didn't answer her straight away.  
  
'I wonder… would you have indeed struck me down then? Would you have truly attacked your own husband?'  
  
What felt to her like a club, struck at her mind. HUSBAND?! What was he talking about? What was he…? A sudden thought passed through her, and she took a tentative step forwards.   
  
'No… it can't be… It's just impossible… Is it really you?! After all this time is it really you?' the man stood stone still, eyeing her as she made steps towards him, 'You can't be, just can't be… But can you……… Harry?'  
  
Raising his two hands, the man reached for his hood, and pulled the black fabric away from his head, revealing an aged but indisputable face. With circular glasses, deep green eyes, and finally, the long, jagged lightening bolt scar on his forehead, Harry stood before her, a tear in his eye and a smile stretched across his face from ear to ear, Ginny almost could not help but be overcome by happiness. How she had dreamed of this reunion. She'd played it in her head over and over when the nights were too lonely, when the bed was too cold. Without warning she leaped at him, flinging her arms around his broad shoulders as she wept ceaselessly.  
  
'Oh Harry, HARRY!' she cried, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks as her husband wrapped her up with his strong hands, whispering into her ear.  
  
'I'm so sorry Ginny. You don't know how sorry I am. All the years I haven't been here for you. Oh so long. Eleven years for us hasn't it been? Twenty for everyone else… I think people scarcely remember my existence after so long. You just don't know how happy I am to be back Ginny. You just don't know!'  
  
Ginny held him tightly as though he were about to disappear from her again, wishing that this one moment of bliss could last forever.   
  
'My work in the outside world is over now Ginny, I'll never be away from you again… EVER, I promise!'  
  
And with that, Ginny smiled feeling happier than she had ever felt for many years. He was going to stay home from now on, she thought at that moment, and he was never leaving again. It felt like old times once more… so happy, so blissful.  
  
Meanwhile, just across the room, Genevieve looked to her mother as she held the stranger as tight as she could. Confusion settled in her mind, but his name seemed oddly familiar, as though she'd known it since birth but never spoken of it. With her mouth half open she looked to the man who likewise looked back to her, two pairs of green eyes meeting together as one, she whispered one silent word beneath her breath…  
  
  
  
'Dad?…'   
  
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There, chapter 1 down and the story is well on it's way to greatness. Yes it's me Richard again. I hope you like ths new story I'm writing, sequel to the first. This chapter goes ahead some twenty years into the future if you didn't read it, and the world has changed much in that time. I've no idea what my loyal reviewers were thinking the sequel would be like, but I guarantee you it will be better than the first story by a great margin. Anyway, happy reading all, I hope this chapter suits you all well.  
  
Regards: Richard 


	2. Dangerous Secrets

Chapter 2 – Dangerous Secrets  
  
Warm rays of light filtered through the spacious, glass window of Ginny's bedroom as the morning sun rose from the east, bringing with it the promise of another prosperous day. Ginny lied wearily on her side, her eyes slowly opening to the familiar scent of cut grass and freshly picked apples that wafted into the room on a stray breeze, filling her nose with the most pleasant of smells. Despite the warmth of the sun's rays however, Ginny shivered, a seemingly absent chill wrapping it's icy fingers around her as she snuggled further into her blankets. So cold she felt, and after such a pleasant dream. She could almost feel Harry's non-existent embrace as he had walked gracefully back into her life, making her complete. Giving her a reason to live when all hope had been lost… the feelings she had felt were so vivid, she could have sworn it was real. Though it hadn't been the first time such thoughts had taken her. Countless nights had she dreamt the day she would reunite with Harry. This seemed no different, and she shed a silent tear knowing that she'd been taken by her desires. Ginny stared seemingly at nothing over the edge of the bed, as though the fibers of carpet on the floor were individually laughing at her as she naively believed that her life could so drastically change for the better as opposed to years of living alone. How childish to think so… Ginny's insides felt frozen as ice at the thought…  
  
Looking across, a small bedside clock ticked over to seven o'clock, a brief click from inside sounding as the inbuilt radio switched on, early morning programs going on without much notice from the red haired lady as she sobbed silently to herself.   
  
"… And hello to you all fellow listeners on this fine Saturday morning, no doubt many of you are sporting hangovers or the like from yesterday, and nursing sore heads besides. Weather conditions currently point to a fine and pleasant day ahead with conditions improving throughout, so if you're up and about or just lounging around, we here at 102.6 FM suggest a weekend of fun and relaxation. With Remembrance day just around the corner, what better time than to take the family out to London. No doubt many have and are already out and about searching for prime locations to watch Sunday's fireworks display which promises this year to be larger and more explosive than ever. Only time will tell… It is currently seven o'clock and it's expected that…"  
  
Ginny reached over quickly and switched the radio off, it's sound dying away as she breathed out a sigh she'd been holding in without realizing…   
  
Remembrance day… the words seemed to have lost all meaning to her now, as it had to the generations following the war. They didn't know the sacrifices made by the veterans during those turbulent years. None had seen the horrors of war and treated it as nothing more than an elaborate public holiday. Worse still, was the reluctance of the world to accept the deeds of the people who'd contributed most to the world's fledging prosperity… people like Harry, who now existed as nothing more than a dim memory. Appalling treatment for someone to which the world owed so much…   
  
Throwing her sheets aside, she rose, throwing on whatever rabble of clothes she could find lying about her. It would do for any purpose, somehow she didn't think her appearance would make much of a difference to anything, no matter how much people stared at her for it. Glancing around at the bed, it's empty appearance just seemed to drive home thoughts she'd had when she woke. It was a dream… nothing but another foolish dream, and Harry hadn't come home yesterday. No… he was still out in the world doing heaven knew what. Perhaps he was dead… Ginny shrugged off another chill as she opened her bedroom door and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Perhaps a hot coffee would help her see things more clearly.  
  
As she rounded the corner, Ginny gazed around the first floor, as if her eyes were of want to look at something… anything to take her mind off her problems. Across the lounge room she stared, pausing slightly at the sight of the television that stood switched off in the corner. How odd… normally Genevieve would be watching it before she woke up, looking as obsessed as ever with those muggle cartoons that often aired at the time. Ginny never took much to them personally, though she did consider that the idea of consecutive pictures used to create the illusion of movement was quite clever. Perhaps when she was younger, such things would've appealed to her, if only a little. Ginny wrested her eyes away from it as she walked into the kitchen, a large room with a steepled ceiling, long beams of hardwood stretching across it from end to end. Black and white checkered tiles formed a chessboard like pattern on the floor, and lacquered wooden cupboards set off the room's overall appearance quite finely indeed. At first glance it would seem a pretty room, even for a kitchen, though Ginny's eyes washed over them as though it were non-existent. Nothing really seemed to matter to her then as she boiled a cup of coffee with her wand, before clasping the steaming mug in her hands, breathing in the warmth.  
  
The sound of footsteps from behind caught her attention then, moving softly along the carpet and then the tiled floors, as though trying not to be noticed. Ginny felt a slight grin come to her then, something she hadn't expected to do in her current mood. Genevieve… she'd always done her best to sneak up on her mother in the mornings while her back was turned. She'd gained the ability during childhood, though Ginny had long since become used to the sound of pattering footsteps that would creep up on her almost constantly. The first few times the young girl had been quite successful, though as time went on she began to lose her edge slightly, Ginny often being able to sense the girl from a few meters away before she got close. Silently she stood where she was. Genevieve hadn't managed to catch her mother out yet for quite some time. She'd let her get close this time, if only this once, and then catch her red handed. It felt quite funny after a while.   
  
Ginny stayed in the kitchen, mug still hot and steaming just below her nose. The coffee smelt good, yet she kept herself silent and composed as the footsteps neared her. Closer… closer… closer still they came and Ginny kept her face smooth and unhindered. The young girl was probably giggling under her breath right now at having come so close… how annoyed she'd become once Ginny caught her out a hand's distance away from victory. The footsteps drew closer still, Ginny could almost feel the girl breathing on her from behind, the footsteps stopping. It was time to finish this… and Ginny turned around, arms wide to catch the girl before she realized her mistake.  
  
'GOTCHA!' she said aloud, hands outstretched in anticipation… but there was no one there! The room before her laid as empty as though she'd just walked through it, the feeling of a cool draft wafting across her face as she stared confusedly through the empty rooms ahead. Ginny's mind drew and immediate blank.  
  
"What in the world?" she thought confusedly to herself. She could've sworn Genevieve was right behind her. Was this some kind of new trick the girl had devised? Whatever it was it had worked thus far… Ginny stepped forward slightly, her eyes darting about the room in wonder. Where had the girl disappeared to? She continued to walk, the footsteps starting again as she moved, only to stop just as abruptly when she turned quickly around to find the culprit. Again, nobody there.   
  
"Stealthy?…" she mused as she walked on, the footsteps muffling slightly as they pattered onto the carpet seemingly from every side of her, Ginny couldn't tell from which direction they'd come.  
  
'Genevieve?!' she called out, the girl's disappearing act starting to put her slightly on edge. 'Come on Genevieve this isn't funny, come out.'  
  
Nothing but a cool breeze across the back of her neck seeming to answer her calls… then a thought hit her.  
  
There were no windows open this early in the morning. There couldn't possibly be a breeze inside, not unless… Realization struck her, and she made to turn around when at that moment, a pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around her in a heartfelt embrace, pulling her close to a solid object. The breath in her lungs ceasing to be as her skin suddenly began to tingle. A sole, delicate finger rose to her face, resting on her crimson lips, which she vaguely realized were wide open in contentment.  
  
'Shhhhh…' she heard a voice whisper into her ears, a chill bolting up her spine as a soft hand caressed the base of her neck, raising goose bumps on her skin. All the while her breaths reducing to a shallow pant as she struggled to believe what was happening.   
  
"Who…?" she thought bleakly to herself, the man behind seeming to sense her thoughts, a soft breath sounding behind her as his hand rose and stroked her cheeks gently. She felt herself heat up, her own rasping pants growing faster as time stopped still, her body's senses seeming to rise near fever pitch, twitching in subtle pleasure as the torturous bliss went on. She could smell him now… taste his scent upon the air. At once she knew whom held her within his arms, but then, somehow she'd already known deep down inside, no one could hold her so passionately.  
  
'Harry?…' she whispered vaguely, those hands pulling her close, air once more escaping her lungs… escaping her mind. She could feel herself being lost within him, lost in happiness… nothing could ever compare to this…  
  
'Mmm, your scent still sings to me Ginny,' spoke a smolderingly passionate voice behind her right ear, there could be no mistaking him now. Harry's hands drew her closer still, drawing slight breaths of yearning from the red haired woman as her mind fumbled over simple thoughts, everything washing away beneath a sea of bliss. Harry breathed deeply along the back of her neck, Ginny's head arching backwards in delight, her mouth curling into a smile she long since thought lost. Despite the time lost between them, Ginny knew that Harry was still Harry, though he seemed madly in love with her.  
  
'You've been enduring an unrequited love… I can feel it inside you, smoldering away… Burning… That longing… that desire… that ever present loneliness… Such a beautiful woman could only be destined for heart ache and sorrow…' melodramatic? Yes, but why did that voice make her feel so… Alive? Ginny pondered on it for a moment as Harry effortlessly turned her face up to his own with a single, gesturing finger along her chin. Her brown eyes instantly became lost in his fathomless pools of emerald green. She could feel her mind lose it's grip on reality as he planted a kiss on her parted lips, a single thought flowing through her head before it too was washed away beneath that endless river of unending passion…  
  
"It wasn't a dream… He's alive!…"  
  
Shallow breathing was the only sound to be heard along a stagnant and long abandoned corridor. Ice cold drafts and the remnants of long dead spiders, seemingly all that remained in a hall that was once so teeming with life, laughter and learning… Time it seemed, had taken a toll on this place, the large stone blocks having been used to build the walls now had patches of odd, green moss growing in the dim light, where house elves held the duty so long a time ago, to keep them clean and free of dirt. Now however, abandoned to long changing years, even the house elves themselves dared not venture here. It had become forbidden to talk of this place now, ever since the war had ended. Ever since the world had changed beyond remembrance… Here, only a select few walked this aging hall, and none felt more remorse than possible at the need, as there were things here that mortals themselves should not have been privy to see.  
  
Albus Dumbledore walked slowly in the dim half light of the corridor, his softly padded shoes kicking up clouds of ancient dust as he went. Dressed in his usual manner of immaculate silk and linen robes, the aging wizard radiated power most definitely… and wisdom. Of the latter, none could deny, for Dumbledore had seen countless years, his long, flowing white beard proving only testament to this fact, yet he refused to see it cut, claiming it was a sign of character. Halting for a moment, the wizard inhaled a deep breath of stale air that made him choke and wheeze, he was regretting having to come down here after so long. Though he did think it necessary despite the risk to his health the air was becoming… His health… another thing to concern him in his advanced years. Not something he'd want to think about, his work was not yet complete, not at all. Somehow in his mind there was that lingering feeling that a task laid incomplete, and no matter whether he could recall precisely what that was, the very notion of leaving matters untied sent a shiver down his spine. He would prefer to be neat when he did finally let go of life… something which may not be so far away, it was well past his time.  
  
Dumbledore sniffed the air slightly and his senses peeked. There was a familiar burning smell belying the dust and dirt that he could tell. He turned slightly to his left, and felt no great surprise as the corners of his vision began to pull inwards, his surroundings compressing awkwardly before flexing open once more, a radiant blue portal slicing apart the air as it opened, blowing his white hair back in waves where he stood. Spreading a sapphire glow over the old stone walls, the portal floated mid air for a moment, contorting in the cold draft, bending… A figure suddenly emerged from it, cloak pulled over it's head as the magical gateway suddenly began to implode in on itself, shrinking further and further before finally winking out, plunging the hall into darkness again.  
  
It took a moment for his eyes to readjust to the failing light, yet Dumbledore knew too well who had come from the glowing gateway.  
  
'Long it had been Minerva…' he spoke tiredly, yet his voice made the figure start as suddenly as if he were shouting at her face… well, perhaps not quite, though a sudden relieved exhalation sounded as the elderly woman pulled back her hood, which had remained fastened to her cloak with two silver Snakes. Disdainfully she glared down at the serpent clasp, before raising a hand and tearing it from her cloak, throwing it to the ground with a grunt. Dumbledore chuckled slightly at the woman who'd puffed herself up so indignantly, somehow he was aware she was blushing furiously.  
  
'I see you have lost none of your… "subtlety". Though I am concerned you chose to come by gateway. Such travel without technological aid is not only dangerous, but quite illegal.'  
  
McGonagall stared at him momentarily, puffing herself up further as she smoothed down her robes. Even when speaking to Dumbledore, McGonagall never liked being lectured on what was right and what was not.  
  
'Ironic isn't it Professor,' she spoke in a silky voice, a slight hint of irritation flowing from it, 'That the same person who suggested I travel this way is the same person of whom I speak to now. What a position you are in to judge, hmm?!'   
  
Dumbledore chuckled again, a slight grin spreading on his face as he looked over the formidable woman with that familiar twinkle in his eyes. In all her long years McGonagall always stood up for her sense of pride, and looked more than capable of fending for herself. Slowly he turned on his heal and continued down the corridor, Minerva's feet following him in a half stride, her robes flowing over as she went. Every so often she looked up reverently to the mage as he walked in front of her. No matter her nature, she was fiercely loyal to him. Loyal to a fault it appeared, and she respected him beyond anyone else, something she didn't admit to openly of course, but kept inside nonetheless.  
  
'How many is it now Minerva? My mind grows weary of these endless lists.' Albus asked casually, seeming to snap out of a reverie. McGonagall looked to him questioningly at having stuck straight into business without a moment's reprieve, yet for whatever surprise she may have had, she showed none of it, and quickly withdrew a large, rolled up piece of parchment from within her robe pockets, which she hurriedly poured over despite the dimness of the light.  
  
'Twenty-four this month,' she replied quickly, casting her eyes further down the sheet, 'That's including that muggle woman last Monday, you remember the one, caught administering harmful salves to Aurors… Hmm, strange isn't it? You would never have expected someone like that to be dealing in such dark magic. A muggle least of all.'  
  
Dumbledore relegated an admonishing sigh as he walked, all too familiar memories returning to him at once. Not long before, a nurse doing a traineeship at St Mungo's was discovered force feeding deadly concoctions of Devil's snare and Polyjuice potion to injured Aurors. One of which was unlucky enough not to have been saved in time, before the plant seedlings constricted his windpipe. Albus tsked slightly as the man's choking form slipped through his mind like so many a memory before. A terrible waste of such a fine young man, it was small consolation that the woman involved received her dues immediately as per the required punishment. A subject of which, Minerva found rather sickening to contemplate, when considering exactly how it was that the woman was sentenced. Albus twirled his wand about between his fingers in expectation, McGonagall looking further down the parchment for anything else of interest.  
  
'And what of today Minerva? Have we received any more from our agent?'  
  
McGonagall furrowed her brow at the parchment, the failing light not registering to her the need to illuminate her wand. Guiding her finger down the list, she stopped and gave a rather strangled stammer.  
  
'Just one Professor…,' she breathed harshly, her eyes widened to the size of saucers, 'Bellatrix Lestrange.'   
  
The name came grudgingly off the old lady's tongue, but the reputation associated with it was more than emotive. Dumbledore of all people knew that. Bellatrix Lestrange… a Deatheater in service to Voldemort since the very first years of his reign, nothing had been heard of her for years since her apparent escape from the ministry over twenty years ago. Suspicions had been raised regarding her whereabouts, but never had any credible evidence of her existing been found. Regrettably, she was but one of many of Voldemort's pawns who had either escaped or evaded capture towards the end of the war, and led to many perplexing questions, such as why there wasn't a mass Deatheater strike during the heat of the battle for Hogwarts. Almost as unfortunate, was the fact that this question in particular and others like it, were not satisfactorily answered, leaving nothing but an idle question mark where the new found world wanted answers. Perhaps…, Dumbledore thought idly to himself, Bellatrix would yield some answers yet, though he was almost certain that the Aurors would have had a good attempt at extracting information from her by now. Most likely, there was little left to extract. Casually he made a mental note to talk to the Auror caste before the night was out.  
  
'What is her condition?' he asked off handedly to the old witch. McGonagall gave him a confused shrug, trying to keep up with Albus's quick pace.  
  
'Well… it's hard to say really. Our agent apparently had a grudge against her for quite a number of years… and, well you know how stubborn he can be when his mind is set. There can be no moving him, that's for sure. Though it says here he denied it, personally, I believe he's done something to her. Consider it my instinct.'  
  
Dumbledore furrowed his brow whilst McGonagall rolled the parchment up, plunging it back into her robes.   
  
'At any rate, his service ends about now, does it not? I'll have some words with him yet regarding the matter. Ill treatment of prisoners is not on our agenda, despite whatever personal resentment he might feel. Nevertheless, I feel we've asked more of him than anyone deserves. We can ask no more of him this day, his family needs him now, no matter how powerful a mage he might be.'  
  
McGonagall nodded absently behind him, seeming on the verge of tears in spite of herself. Albus stopped and looked back at her, unfamiliar at the sight.  
  
'Whatever is wrong Minerva?' he asked sympathetically, turning about to face her fully. McGonagall naively looked up to him, wiping away tears as they rolled down her aged cheeks.  
  
'It's just not right Albus,' she spoke softly, swallowing hard, 'How many years has it been for him? Nineteen? Twenty?! The world scarcely remembers his existence, let alone the sacrifices he made and the truth of what he is. Should the public ever discover his past, they'd never forgive him. A Prodigen mage is likely the least trusted of any person. You know that Albus, it's useless to deny the fact considering his work…'  
  
'Do you believe the public has no heart Minerva? Would they truly riot against a Prodigen in their midst?' It seemed more a statement than a question, though McGonagall felt set bout it. Should a mage who could use wandless magic, particularly a Prodigen, be discovered walking the streets, the consequences could be deadly.  
  
'I stand by my assumption Professor, it's just not right. I cannot imagine what he's feeling this moment… So long…'  
  
Dumbledore turned from her, staring down to the end of the abandoned hallway. From his vision he could see that the corridor ended abruptly, the solid wall shadowed by the statue of a rather vicious looking gargoyle. It was a port key. And a very well disguised one at that, despite the fact that port keys were now an obsolete form of travel, replaced by the ever enlarging network of gateways that had sprung the world over following the war. Though it served now only to better the old wizard during the end of his time, the world had afterall, changed too much to contemplate. The least he could do now was keep strings tied and the world neat before he finally threw in the towel. This scheme of his to apprehend the remaining Deatheaters felt to him more like a sacred duty than anything else, and he owed it to himself to complete it, not to mention those he'd used to see it done. The Prodigen mage being one person in particular to receive special thanks, but just as it had occurred twenty years ago, there would be no massive parade… no grand turnout to honor his deeds and pay him the respect he deserved. No matter how much it grinded away inside him at the unjustness of it all, the world, even in it's new golden age, was simply not ready to accept his like in society. Even the Prodigen knew that.  
  
Walking up to the gargoyle, he and McGonagall each placed a finger on it's head, the world suddenly lurching about them in a gut wrenching array of colors, before they both landed in a darkened room, surrounded by several sinisterly clad figures. McGonagall cringed in fear as the air about them both, noticeably shifted into an ice cold atmosphere, their breaths exhaling as a frozen mist. Dumbledore raised a calm hand, gesturing the figures away from him.  
  
'Dementors, bring her to me now… alive. I will not except failure.'   
  
The two closest to him bowed oddly, before gliding away into the dark that seemed of want to consume them. McGonagall stood by, twitching idly as the remaining Dementors passed bone chilling looks over her with that eyeless stare. Dumbledore seemed in that moment to radiate power where he stood, he was remarkably unaffected by the Dementors as they looked to him with a familiar hunger that he despised so much. Should they ever be required on Hogwarts' grounds again, he hoped beyond hope that he was in a shallow grave long before the time came. As it was, they were too much of a danger to people as it was, let alone to milling masses of new bred students, some of which now held muggle blood that was incapable of magical defenses… How the world HAD changed.  
  
A few minutes passed before the Dementors returned, flanking between them a pathetic specimen of a once proud and evil woman. Wringing hands… eyes darting left and right, she seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown assuming she hadn't already experienced one. With the light as dim as it was she didn't immediately see the two robed figures awaiting her, but instantly went a stark, pale color once recognition hit and attempted to run away in the other direction before the Dementor's swift hands grabbed at her neck and threw her forward in front of Dumbledore. She landed with a thud, crumpling in an odd manner as the Dementor's hands froze up her joints. Dumbledore knelt down to her as she looked up from where she laid, eyes as large as saucers, her mouth quivered for a moment before it stretched into a thin line, scowling at the old wizard.  
  
'Bellatrix Lestrange…' Dumbledore began as he stared down at her pitiful form, almost as though he were passing sentence on her, 'How honored I am that you could join us once again on such short notice, it's been some time has it not?'  
  
Bellatrix stared arrogantly at him, despite her appearance being haggard and worn. Twenty years had definitely taken their toll on the woman. Strands of grey streaked her hair now where once it had not and worry lines creased her brow and cheeks. But even so, her gaze seemed capable of grinding away stone, the stare she gave Dumbledore was so full of contempt, that the old wizard hardly noticed when she suddenly reared up and spat at him. McGonagall's shocked intake of breath made Albus look down to his tainted robes with a sort of remorse and he wiped away the spit with a free hand.  
  
'Humph,' he snorted, the twinkle in his eyes being replaced by a malicious gleam as he looked down his nose at the woman splayed out before him, 'Obviously too long…'  
  
And he raised her to her feet with a twist of his wand, the fearful look flashing once more behind her black eyes.  
  
'Countless people you have killed Bellatrix. Killed or tortured to their wits end. The Longbottoms can attest to that much at least, I have no doubt they would much like to be here when I pass sentence on you, here in the Glyph caves… Of course, I am not a vengeful person…' he immediately conjured a small vial of transparent liquid onto his hand, 'If you can say to me under bounds of truth that you repent your ways and forsake your dark master, then you may leave this place alive. Do you accept my proposal?'  
  
Bellatrix forced herself to her feet, if somewhat ungainly, though it proved hardly an inspiring gesture, she stood a full hand length below Dumbledore's height. Yet even so she fixed the old man with her contemptuous glare.  
  
'Never you old fool. I'll NEVER forsake my oath of allegiance to the Dark Lord. Do you not know it?! He has been reborn. He is more powerful now than ever, and the world will quake from his voice and tremble beneath his gaze. And I… Bellatrix Lestrange will be at his side, his most trusted… most loyal of all servants! He will honor me more than a father does his daughter, and you… You will be amongst the first to die when his presence in this world becomes known. Mark my words for truth, the be no need for Veritaserum.'  
  
Dumbledore eyed the woman piteously as she stood there glowering at him, her teeth clenched together and bared like some rabid wolf guarding it's kill. And at once the small bottle in his hand disappeared.  
  
'Somehow I'd been expecting an answer as such, I didn't truly believe that you'd forsake your master so easily. But that need not matter, you are of no use to me at all…' Albus gestured to the Dementors, 'Take her…'  
  
Two gnarled hands came down on each of Bellatrix's shoulders, making her wince in cold as their claws dug into her skin. Despite the pain however, she once more fixed Dumbledore with her scathing glare, bringing nothing in return but a blank expression from the mage, and a near mirror image from McGonagall as well, who looked to her with a sullen expression of hatred. The Dementors didn't choose to care however, and guided the unwilling prisoner into the confines of a large cube-like room, white paint gleaming as multitudes of lights washed over the walls from all directions, the shock of the transition making Bellatrix rub her eyes uncomfortably, the Dementors taking up positions either side of her before a giant mirror. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she worked her hands confusedly over the flat surface, somehow understanding it's function for what it really was.  
  
Dumbledore stood by McGonagall as they both stared into the brightly lit room, which now stood sealed from entry locking Bellatrix and the Dementors inside. McGonagall looked to Albus confusedly as he stood there resolute, his face as expressionless as what she imagined the Dementor's faces looked like were their cloak hoods lowered.  
  
'She?… she can't see us?' McGonagall asked confusedly, all the while watching Bellatrix work her hands over the mirror from the other side in frustration at not knowing her sentence. Dumbledore breathed deeply as he stared at the woman on the other side.  
  
'Two way mirrors,' Dumbledore replied suddenly, a small grin twitching at the sides of his mouth as he contemplated the muggle invention, 'Quite an ingenious concept really, I cannot imagine why wizards hadn't invented something like this before. Truly fascinating…' he seemed lost then as he regarded the mirror with a sense of respect and awe, Bellatrix now resigning to launch herself fruitlessly at the barrier, rebounding bodily off it as the Dementors paid her no heed, but began exchanging what seemed to be anxious glares, if that were possible for a Dementor.   
  
Dumbledore pointed his wand to his throat and muttered a spell beneath his breath, before he spoke aloud, his voice traveling through the solid walls and into Bellatrix's makeshift prison.  
  
'Bellatrix Lestrange…' he began, his voice sounding as hard as shaved granite, 'You have committed crimes beyond comprehension. Crimes of murder, torture and terrible misdemeanors for the dark side that have resulted in pain, suffering and anguish for countless numbers of people. You fate is hereby decided, do you have any last words…?'  
  
Bellatrix looked to the mirror as though finally figuring out it's purpose, and scowled angrily from the other side, not truly looking at Dumbledore, but with every intention of it.  
  
'No matter what punishment you can give, whether it be Azkaban or even death, NOTHING will sever my loyalty to the dark lord. No punishment could ever achieve that!' and she wore for a moment what seemed a malicious smirk, which suddenly dropped as she heard something she'd never expected from Dumbledore in a million years… He laughed.  
  
'Somehow I doubt it…' he spoke softly, yet the words seemed to tear at Bellatrix's head like a skewer over hot flames. 'I, Albus Dumbledore, hereby sentence Bellatrix Lestrange, to the unknown. May whomever you worship protect you in this late hour…'  
  
The lights in the room dimmed a little, Bellatrix staring around as the Dementors guarding her became more frantic, also looking this way and that as a doorway on the other side of the room magically opened, letting in freezing drafts of stale air.   
  
'What's going on?! What is this trickery?!' Bellatrix yelled in frustration, the Dementors beginning to tear at themselves in fear. 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING OLD MAN?!'  
  
Dumbledore stared emotionless at her from the other side of the mirror, McGonagall's own expression becoming somewhat unreadable as she looked scared, then confused, then scared once more at the scene occurring beyond the glass. Bellatrix unable to resist the urge to become wrapped in the fear that had begun to consume the Dementors whole. Her face had gone pale, the blood draining from her. Dumbledore nodded satisfactorily and McGonagall couldn't help but stare in admonishment knowing that something horrible was taking place inside the room. Something she could not yet see.   
  
Bellatrix turned suddenly to the open doorway, where the light surrounding it seemed to bend inwards on itself, before the seeming "hole" in the air surged forwards to one of the Dementor's shadow, a seven foot tall shape emerging suddenly from it, looming over the creature as it began twisting about in the air, clear vibes of panic smoldering off it. Suddenly there was a vial, gut wrenching tear and Bellatrix watched in horror as a breathing nightmare with jaws of long, serrated teeth tore the Dementor in two with powerful, clawed hands, black blood and innards strewn across the white floor in a grisly display.  
  
The other Dementor screeched loudly in terror and began pounding desperately against the two way glass with it's gnarled fists, drawing the beast's attention. McGonagall stared in horror between the scene unfolding before her, and Dumbledore's seemingly inert expression.  
  
'Narcissan…' Albus grated between clenched teeth, his hands firmly behind his back as he watched the event through his half moon spectacles. McGonagall stared back in disbelief, not truly accepting what she saw as reality, a part of her almost willing to forgive Bellatrix for her crimes if only to sentence her humanely. No one deserved a fate like this, no matter how deep in the dark arts they were.   
  
The Narcissan stared in a blood filled rage at the hysterical Dementor, who was bashing it's head against the wall in a vain attempt to escape, before it drew from beneath it's ragged cloak, a long, viciously serrated sword, longer than a man was tall. It screamed again and twisted on the spot, disappearing into the shadows as the Dementor scraped uselessly at the white paint of the wall. Bellatrix watched almost spellbound, shying away fearfully in a corner as the Dementor was suddenly lifted into the air by an invisible force, before it was smashed into the tiled floor, the Narcissan materializing overhead before it began hacking ruthlessly at the Dementor with it's sword, severing limbs in a horrific spray of bloodshed. Bellatrix screamed in the corner, clutching her head fearfully between her hands as the Narcissan turned about to face her…  
  
'I believe you understand how it all ends.' Dumbledore spoke to McGonagall as she watched in alarm, 'There is no need to hear what happens from now on.' And he waved his wand about in a spiraling motion, the sound from within the room suddenly cutting off like a television stuck on mute. If anything, it served only to make the scene more horrifying as the Narcissan flickered mid air before appearing instantaneously before Bellatrix, plunging an iron clad hand into her crouching form, lifting her into the air with brute strength.  
  
Bellatrix's mouth opened wide in a panic-stricken scream. But no sound could be heard from beyond the glass, McGonagall herself on the verge of tears at the sight of the woman's pain.  
  
'Such is the price of Dark magic.' Dumbledore said simply, bowing his head, 'If only there was another way…'  
  
Bright flows of yellow energy spawned suddenly from Bellatrix's mouth as she hung suspended in the air, and flowed down the Narcissan's arms, disappearing beneath it's robes. With skin tightening and blood dripping in rivers down her face, the woman's screams persisted as her face contorted, until the flesh from her body began disappearing quickly, leaving nothing but a corpse of bone and sinew which the Narcissan hurled with unimaginable force, smashing it against the wall into thousands on bony shards, before the it screamed once more and dematerialized into the air, leaving the Deatheater dead or possibly worse… maybe trapped within the Narcissan forever.  
  
The lights in the room winked out suddenly, plunging the room into darkness, Dumbledore opened a portal where he stood gesturing McGonagall to walk through it. The old witch stared disbelievingly at the old wizard who stood perilously close to abandoning all good himself. He seemed destined to become another Mr Crouch.   
  
'I'm… speechless professor… why?!'  
  
Dumbledore stared back remorsefully, knowing full well the extremity of the sentence he'd just carried out.  
  
'In my less advanced years, I thought it best to exile such villains to Azkaban, believing that there they may find some measure of justice. Quite simply, I was wrong. Azkaban did not change people as I'd hoped it would but made them harder, tougher and less willing to change or repent their ways. That was the mistake I made Minerva, and I swore on my grave that I'd never make that mistake again. It is cruel I know, for what precisely happens to these people is a mystery when a Narcissan takes them, but I will not stand by and let all that has been achieved come to naught now that the human race has finally found unity. This is a permanent measure. Cold and calculating it is nothing more than a means to an end. Voldemort is not dead as many people choose to believe, and why he has kept himself hidden away until now is beyond my knowledge, but I will not make my mistake again. In time, he will suffer a similar fate to Bellatrix, he will have deserved it…  
  
And we owe it all to Harry…'   
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Chapter 2 complete, I hope I didn't scare you lot. It may seem confusing to you all because this does take place some years in the future where everything's changed, arguably for the better, but I assure you you'll begin to understand Harry's world in soon enough time. Anyway, I gotta start chapter 3, so sit tight, it's on it's way. Happy reading.  
  
Regards: Richard 


	3. Choices

Chapter 3 – Choices  
  
Harry opened his eyes slightly, the refreshing sensation of a cool morning's breeze washing over his face as he laid half awake in bed… Where had the night gone? He could scarcely remember falling to sleep in the first place, which to him was unusual… very unusual in fact. Propping himself up against the back of the bed, he twisted his neck each way before stretching his arms stiffly above his head, whatever aches and pains he had been expecting, seemingly non-existent this morning. Surprise eased slowly into his mind as he contemplated it. It felt odd that he should awaken in familiar surroundings, with true refreshment sinking in him. The latter was something was something he'd almost forgotten… lost far back in time with so much of his identity. Why, just three days gone he'd been sleeping beneath a bridge in some poor East European country, out of sight and out of mind, with all physical and mental energies being applied to tracking… He shuddered abruptly, blocking off his mind to his not too distant past.  
  
"No!" he thought harshly to himself, his content face turning slightly downcast. That part of him was gone now. It was but another useless facet of his past that remained a stain on his conscience… And a painful stain at that. Perhaps the word "scar" was more appropriate in this case. Somehow it seemed that his own past deeds would catch up to him every now and then. Almost as if to punish him, or perhaps mock instead… either word could describe it. Afterall, some things he'd done, particularly in the last five years, he had regretted absolutely to the point where it hurt to think about them. True, he was ashamed of himself…  
  
"But think about the knowledge you've gained… think about your power!" that familiar voice in his head garbled on, his conscience berating him. Despite everything that had happened to him, for better or for worse, his mind could always search for some good in it, even if only small. Without that, it was likely he would've keeled over and died of heartache and sorrow many years back, no matter what bridge he was under. A prospect of which, froze him to the core.  
  
"But what about everything I've lost?" he retorted mentally to himself, and almost wished his mind would snow him under with some glorious lecture of how weak he was to think in this manner. But the voice silenced, turning into nothing but a soft, cackling laughter in the far recesses of his mind. But the question itself struck him then, and he sat upright in thought as his exposed chest was once again brushed by a cool breeze from beyond the open window. How much had he lost?! Counting off the years in his head, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. Too much, without doubt. But how much? Certainly his home, apart from last night he could hardly remember the last time he'd slept in a comfortable bed, or had a solid roof above him… And then there were his friends; since Ron and Hermione's wedding some years back, he hadn't seen them. Something in his head told him that he should have valued their friendship more than he did, particularly after the war, but work had hassled him then to no end. The very nature of it meaning that all contact with them had to cease, no matter the consequences.  
  
And then, last of all, there was his family… HIS family. Most definitely that was the most important of all, and it had taken him years to understand exactly how much they meant to him… Without realizing it, his calm composure bent, small glistening tears beginning to stream down his cheeks, that had now flushed a deep shade of crimson. What had he done? Thinking back to where it all began brought considerable pain, yet it held the root of all his problems. Twenty years ago to the day, he had realized exactly how much he was in love with the woman he was destined to marry, however, blind as he was, and confused, he resisted his heart for something else. A different life. Away from the small numbers of people who knew the truth and claimed him a hero to humanity. Away from his friends and his adopted red haired family… away from her… Had he known what Dumbledore had been offering at the time, he would have declined immediately, perhaps even gone so far as to spit at his feet. For the decision he made all those years ago, ensured his disappearance from the wizarding world and from everything he knew and held dear.  
  
Who would have thought the old man could turn his entire life around by simply nodding? That was a question he could not help but ponder. With Dumbledore's interference, nine years of his life were shaved away. Nine years of torturous survival as a means to an end. Nine years of horror and bloodshed, in which time he committed such acts as he'd only seen in his nightmares… Naturally the pain of it all was unbearable, and for one joyous moment he returned to the girl he'd left behind and married her… only to be separated once again in fear of her safety, and rot once more on the streets for a further eleven years, all the while receiving rather ambiguous orders from the aging wizard who quite evidently, knew NOTHING about what he was going through! Anger festered in his heart as he remembered every day as though it were yesterday, and barely managed to suppress a shudder. He had to keep a hold of his temper, and the urge to cry.  
  
"Never again!" he thought to himself, making a silent promise. Until now he wasn't aware he had a daughter, nor was he aware that despite his absence, Ginny had remained true to their wedding vows and not left him for another man.  
  
'Hmm…' he muttered quietly to himself, 'Ginny…' and he gently pulled back the linen bed sheets to his left, revealing a beautiful face framed with flowing, red hair. Though her eyelids were closed and her lips slightly parted, he noticed small patches of crimson bloom on her cheeks as she slept soundly. Harry's heart nearly leapt out of his throat in witness of her peaceful beauty, and found himself feeling rather breathless and lightheaded… She was everything to him. His lover, his wife, his angel. How could he have left her for so long? She must hate him for it. Hate him for missing the most important parts of their daughter's life. No amount of punishment could atone for that, though her beauty alone demanded it. She laid there curled up like a cat, her red hair snuggling against her pillow in such a graceful and majestic way… Nothing could compare.  
  
'I'll never leave you again Ginny,' he spoke softly to her as she slept unawares, 'No matter what I must do, or how long it may take me, I'll always be there for you…' and he leant over her, gently placing a kiss on her rosy cheeks. She didn't stir, yet a small smile touched her lips as she snuggled further into her blankets, as though experiencing a pleasant dream, and Harry could not help but beam in loving pride. He lingered there for a moment as he pulled the sheets back over her face, before getting up and donning his flowing black robes. That was another thing he had to change. Along with innumerable tears and creases, his robes also held within them a rather odious smell, likely from having been slept in night after night. He figured that with his return, the least he could do was present himself respectfully, a good bath wouldn't go astray either.   
  
Pausing only slightly to straighten his collar, Harry swept out of the room and quietly made his way down the creaking flight of stairs that led to the lower level of the house. It was nice to see that Ginny had done well for herself, having acquired a good sized home, whilst also raising his daughter Genevieve at the same time. He could only imagine what she'd been through for the past eleven years. His eyes flicked up to his right as he descended, numerous moving photos sitting bound to the walls drawing his attention, whilst reminding him of days gone by. One photo he stopped at to spare a glance. A group image of Ron, Hermione and himself, smiling innocently during their Hogwarts days… Such fond memories, but that was all they were now… memories. Pulling his eyes away, he cleared the last few steps before turning left, his feet guiding him into the kitchen where he took a seat at a large wooden table, where a dozen or so chairs stood arranged as if for a big family banquet. Without counting himself, he wondered if Ron and Hermione had any kids of their own. No doubt Ginny had held gatherings here before, it was likely that the family had grown since his leaving. Another prospect he looked forward to for the weeks ahead, as there was much catching up to do yet. He'd spent far too much time abroad. Yet his family was the immediate concern. His family…  
  
Strange as it was that he'd resumed a life lost, he knew that now more than ever his family needed him. Genevieve especially. Harry didn't know it for truth or not, but he figured she was approaching eleven years of age, and she would soon be needing guidance if she were to enter the magical world smoothly. No doubt she would be attending Hogwarts in good order, and the new term was destined to start soon. If only there was a way he could still see her through the term without disrupting her too much. If only… Mimicking his thoughts, his hand delved into his robe pockets and withdrew a small, partly tattered envelope, which he turned about in his fingers for a moment, eying it from several angles. His name was printed neatly on the front in stylized text, with the ancient seal of Hogwarts stamped gingerly on the back in a pool of red wax. He remembered that mere hours after he'd re-entered the country, a wayward owl had delivered it to him, and since that time he'd somewhat neglected to open it.   
  
Well… "neglected" wasn't quite the word to use. "Resisted" was more apt. Knowing only at the time that Ginny needed him, he'd stuffed the envelope into his pocket without another thought, not caring as to what it contained. Perhaps he'd been rash in his thinking at the time, putting it off and all. To that he couldn't quite answer himself, but Genevieve proved a new development, and whether or not the girl chose to admit it or not, she needed him close by, so as to recover all those years lost… Reluctantly, he slid his index finger along the crest of the envelope, which scorched and burned for a second, before he grasped the letter within, lines of jumbled text forming sentences as he began to read.  
  
"Mr Harry J Potter,  
  
Quite some time it's been since we last saw your like, rumor having it that your presence was detected at the nearest carrier center a short hour before this letter was drafted. And I swear to you that none regret so much as we that your "ordeal", lasted as long as it did. Rest assured however, that your actions over the past twenty years have done more for the Light arts and the Order than anyone could have ever perceived, and had there not been such a need for secrecy, you would be claimed a hero in short order. Sad it is that circumstance have placed us in this position, but I've no doubt you understand the need for… discretion.   
  
Now however with the dark arts declining and peace once more being restored, it has come to our attention that your extended conscription is hereby at an end, thus leaving you free at last to pursue other matters of interest, such as your family. It may come as some surprise to you, but during your absence, your wife Ginny bore a daughter. I hope that it was well worth the wait for you, and I sincerely wish you happiness that I've no doubt you're feeling right now…"  
  
Harry grinded his teeth together in frustration, being somewhat tempted to tear up the letter and burn the remains. Sure it had been a surprise to find he had a daughter, but it had been unpleasant to realize that for her entire life, he wasn't there to be the father he wanted to be, whilst this person had known her their entire life and assumed to speak to him about her so casually. The nerve of them! It wasn't his fault he was wading up to his waist everyday in the filth of the world, cut off and oblivious, whilst tearing his hair out in worry that somebody would try to hurt Ginny… Slowing himself down, Harry took several deep breaths, releasing the white knuckled grip on the letter he didn't realize he had. No doubt his temper had grown since he'd left and it was all he could do to keep a hold of it when he felt strained. Inside he was a good person still. Truly he was… he had to be. But it couldn't be denied that events of late had weighed heavily on him. Indeed they had… Opening his eyes, he continued reading, the garbled letters continuing to form magically into legible sentences as his eyes descended down the page.  
  
"… However, try as you might to resume family life, there is the inevitable question of money. I'd think it highly unlikely that Ginny did not use funds from your Gringotts account at least once, and now with your return, there will be a greater need for revenue. You cannot exist on your account alone, and this brings me at last to the reasoning behind this letter, which may or may not surprise you. As with previous years the school has been short of a capable Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. We've no accurate reason as to why this is the case, preferring of course to quash these foolish and never ending rumors of someone actually having jinxed the position. Nevertheless, we once again find that the posting is without someone to fill it and we ask it of you that perhaps you would consider taking advantage of this employment opportunity.  
  
We understand of course that you would wish to spend more time with your wife and daughter Genevieve, though this way may prove a means by which you can keep a close eye on the latter at least. This reason alone is a facet of the job that is well worth considering. However, our own motives are far more transparent. We want a capable defense teacher, and should you decline our offer, we will resume our search elsewhere. We ask this of you only because you are the most qualified, considering your experience in the field on your… "endeavors". That, and due to the headmaster aging faster than any one of us would like. True that we understand the past few years have been somewhat traumatic for you…"  
  
Traumatic! What in the hell would they know?! Twenty years of bloodshed could hardly be considered traumatic. More so they were terrible!  
  
"… and furthermore we realize that you owe us nothing, and we owe you everything. In all right, you can decline our offer and we will continue drafting mediocre substitutes as we always have, though there is considerable room for benefit on your part should you accept. In addition to a means of security, we will offer you an impressive salary which surpasses that of your field pay. Consider it an untimely measure of our gratitude. We would appreciate that you reply to this letter punctually as time is not a luxury we once had, though we do urge you to think on it first before you decide. Please consider our offer… carefully.  
  
Yours truly: Minerva McGonagall  
  
Deputy headmistress, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft, Wizardry and Muggle Tech.  
  
Harry looked scathingly over the letter before refolding the crumpled piece of paper and inserting it back into it's envelope. In truth he was quite surprised at the frankness of the letter, which outlined clearly the school's intent as he'd not been expecting. Though to what end did those people need him? Harry glared sullenly at the envelope. With it's contents read, the address on the front quickly began to disappear, removing any trace of whom it was intended. Clearly the level of secrecy regarding himself had not changed in the slightest since he'd left. Perhaps it had intensified, he didn't know. The spells employed to clear the letter's address had been used with him before afterall, it was possible that some fear lingered on despite the dark arts receding as McGonagall had written. How far did that fear extend though? Harry wondered at that most of all.  
  
Casting the blank envelope aside, he pondered, a sly grin forming at the corner of his mouth. They knew he was trapped. Knew that he wanted so desperately to return to his family after so long acting the slave, and sent him this letter anyway, as though to parade in his face that it was the headmaster of Hogwarts whom held the power over him, and not the other way around. And yet, despite his sharp mind, Harry knew inside that it was true. The things he'd done, and everything he knew of the past twenty years had to be kept secret, to what end he wasn't sure, but it had to be. They knew that too, just as Harry did, and no matter which angle he looked at the problem, it seemed to him to be the only true way to exist in this world without attracting a great amount of attention. The only way out of an otherwise difficult situation.  
  
Somehow he found the urge to laugh, despite forgetting the sensation of joy until yesterday, a single line from the letter setting like concrete in his mind. McGonagall spoke of the Dark arts declining with such conviction and certainty that it could almost make him believe it to be true, the prospect of employment suddenly looking a lot more appealing. But he'd seen too much in his time to accept her word at face value. McGonagall was the shrewd and commanding type of person, there was no denying that, and he was certain that she'd lost none of her intense vigor when speaking to people. Yet the manner in which she spoke sounded too similar to the way she lectured him during his Hogwarts days. Spoken to as though he were nothing but an ignorant child, someone who needed full and absolute spoon feeding if he were to make anything of himself in the world. And a child he had been back then, all the way to the end of his schooling days without fail. But that child was no more, and those innocent days had ended a long time ago.  
  
Just by the tone of the letter, Harry could tell that McGonagall, despite twenty years gone by, still saw him as a child worthy of close attention at best. But did she know him anymore? He thought not… No, he knew not. The Dark arts were declining were they?! Harry suppressed another dry laugh building in his throat. Who in their right mind was foolish enough to believe such drivel?! The Shadow never slept! Harry knew that fact most painfully above all others, and to think otherwise was indeed a fool's errand. The fight against those who practiced evil forms of magic, and now technology, would never end so long as free will existed, and there would always be someone there to take up arms against it, no matter the cost. Harry just breathed a sigh of relief that that same person was no longer him. That belonged to a past that was no longer his, and it would stay in the past… forever. Yet the question remained… what of the offer?  
  
Harry furrowed his brow in thought, his gaze sliding out of the glass windows that adorned the house. Just visible amongst the rolling green hills next to the forest, he could see Genevieve's playful form frolicking joyfully in the long grass, her white, flower adorned dress swirling about her as she gazed longingly above herself, arms wide in an embrace of the world. Looking without so much as having a care to bother her, or an untimely obligation or past regret to pull her down, she appeared the epitome of happiness. The world was hers it seemed, and at once the decision came to Harry, as an almighty surge of pride filled him to the brim. She was his daughter. His own flesh and blood born true and carefree. Too she was indeed a pretty girl, much like her mother, Harry could see then just how alike the two seemed, whilst noticing as well the startling similarities she had to himself as well. Her hair was a subtle blend of red and black, whilst her eyes, were a mollifying shade of deep, emerald green. Gifts from his own parents. And unique at that, as his own eyes had gradually dimmed in color over the years, being replaced by a mournful shade of grey that at first glance seemed very unlike what they had once been.  
  
Yet that was not all that had changed of him. His sense of taste had dulled, sensations of touch and smell often blurring at times of ease. And worse still, he was beginning to forget things, finding his thoughts being directed by all the negative aspects of life that he'd encountered. Sometimes, he was never quite sure of who he really was, talking to himself and people who more often than not didn't exist, earning strange looks at the best of times. Bi-products from continual use of Essence magic he was sure. But a price he had been all too willing to pay at the time. What a fool HE had been in his youth, to accept such a rueful bargain, and there was no way to undo it now, not after everything said and done. But knowing now what he should have known years ago, he looked upon his daughter with a new found sense of obligation. She should not have to suffer for his own mistakes, and if protecting her from the worst of life until his death was what it took to preserve her loving spirit, then so be it. He owed it to her at the least for the years lost between them, and furthermore to Ginny, for reasons he preferred to keep hidden. The two of them together were everything he held dear. All that remained. If Genevieve and Ginny were to go on in this world, they would do so from now on with Harry watching over them. Father of his family.  
  
Twisting his hand in a swirling motion, a small piece of parchment appeared suddenly in mid air, complete with an ink dipped quill that floated sinuously nearby. He would not delay his reply another minute for the off chance that another would take the teaching position. It was perfect for his family's needs. It paid well as they said, and he could keep in regular contact with his family. At the least, he'd always fantasized about being a teacher, ever since setting up the DA all those years back. The prospect of sharing knowledge seemed tantalizing. Rising from his chair, he walked about the kitchen, parchment and quill floating on nearby as he began to dictate his response to McGonagall's forthright letter.  
  
'Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,  
  
Your prompt letter to my person has been duly noted, and so soon after my arrival back in the country too. One would think by it that the need for a new teacher is somewhat dire, I would hate to think that all previous years have been like this for Hogwarts teaching staff at selecting substitutes from a somewhat stale crop. Nevertheless, with my duties finished as I know them, I hereby accept your gracious offer at the Defense teaching post. I cannot tell you at this point in time exactly how much it means to me to have this job, but I assure you that I will uphold my duty to the students and to the headmaster in as best a way I can, knowing the prestige that those of Hogwarts are expected to have.   
  
I can only hope that with my acceptance, I am can fulfill the task that I'm sure you're all hoping I can, and to the standards required of it by Professor Dumbledore himself. Unless I am required earlier, I will arrive at Hogwarts at the beginning of the new semester, by whatever means are used these days. I admit I am somewhat ill attuned to the sporadic splicing of wizard magic and muggle technology, and am unsure of whether the Hogwarts express still operates today. Regardless though, I hope you find me suitable for this position regardless of your own expectations.  
  
Yours truly: Harry J Potter'  
  
Harry went over the letter a couple of times in his head, making sure that there was no risk of them construing anything of him that they wouldn't learn of meeting him first hand, he had to keep some element of mystery about him at the very least. It would spoil everything if they knew just how deep his hatred of the headmaster had become as of late. It was he afterall who was responsible for his life being torn away as he knew it, and the torture that would follow. Though there was plenty of time to talk with old mage on that matter. No doubt the man would have some very good excuse for doing what he did. And as well that he did, for Harry didn't know whether all his good thoughts combined would stop him from strangling the old man where he stood… Harry stopped, and closed his eyes in concentration. He mustn't let his mind pull at him like that again. It had been occurring far too often lately for his own liking. He would "discuss" his last twenty years with the headmaster instead. Yes, that was what he'd do, like a civilized person instead of an animal. He would keep his temper… and his mind, as an afterthought, in serious check.  
  
"Really?!" a stifling voice echoed in his head mockingly, "Will you really keep a level head when it counts?"  
  
Harry clutched hands over his ears as though it were someone speaking next to him.  
  
"I will, I will. I must!" he retorted in his head, a small bead of sweat forming on his head before breaking off as ice. "I am not mad. I'm not!"  
  
"Keep up your denial if you must, if you truly aren't mad, why have I seen no proof to suggest otherwise?…"  
  
Harry clenched his teeth together as well, blood pulsing in his ears.  
  
"Because you aren't real, you don't exist. I'm not mad because I know the truth. THE TRUTH!"  
  
"The truth? Only someone as naive as a child could believe in something so vague as truth. Or someone who doesn't want to grow… You speak to yourself boy, as plain and vague as this phantom truth you keep referring to. Is that not enough to prove madness to you? Or are you still unwilling to accept what most certainly is truth?…"  
  
Harry tried as hard as he could but the voice would not desist, sweat beginning to form icicles of Essence upon his skin as his teeth began to chatter under the strain.  
  
"I am not a child anymore. I have grown. I have grown too fast and too much for you. You are nothing to me. Nothing!"  
  
"Nothing?" that mocking tone persisted, "I hardly think that the case Harry Potter…" those last words seemed twisted into a sneer, "I maintain you have not grown, not in the slightest since you first came to know my kind. You are still a child, not willing to accept change or… truth. Has it not occurred to you the level of power you are capable of? Have you not realized that all you need do grasp the full entirety of Essence to achieve that power. As it stands you hold nothing but a strand of your abilities. And even that is greater than any living mage today…"  
  
"Then why?" Harry asked glumly, giving up trying to block the voice out, "I have so much power already, why do I need to push myself when it is needless?…"  
  
"Because you ARE power! You are it's embodiment in a man's form. The world remembers nothing of you when you destroyed the lord of the dead. Does that not hurt you. Does that not pierce your very being?! Have you no honor at all? You could be great. You could seize your power by the throat and rule these lower beings like a lord does his footman. Are you blind to this fact Harry? Are you blind to truth?!"  
  
"ENOUGH!" Harry screamed inside his head, "You are not real! I don't believe a word you say. I have not seized my inner strength because I have control of it. I will not be ruled by Essence alone. It is because of Essence that I have come to be at my wits end now, talking to a non-existent voice inside my head! WHO ARE YOU!"  
  
The voice silenced abruptly, nothing being heard about him save a gentle breeze pushing open an unlatched window. And then it laughed… cold, cackling laughter in the back of his mind, drifting slowly away from him, as though walking out the front door.  
  
"You cannot deny fate Harry, you cannot deny truth. One day you'll crack, and you'll know there is no way to live but through Essence. And on that day when you seize it, I'll be there… waiting… always waiting……"  
  
The voice slipped away laughing into non-existence, being replaced by the ambient sounds of the household, and at once Harry once more became aware of his surroundings, and of the shallow breathing off to his left. Ginny stood there rapped up in her pink nightdress, her red hair arranged in a flowing motion down her shoulders as she watched him intently from beyond a door frame. Harry let go a sharp breath of relief as he watched her slim form approach him at a graceful walk, her brown eyes taking in the floating parchment behind him. She was so beautiful, Harry couldn't help but keep reminding herself of the fact, so very beautiful. Quickly she snatched at the parchment and read it, brown orbs taking in the hastily scrawled text, and at once her mouth widened in an all encompassing smile.  
  
'I knew you would make the right choice Harry,' she spoke in her sultry tones, pushing the breath from Harry's lungs as she held him in a bone crushing hug, 'I just knew you would the moment you came back. Genevieve will love you so much for caring… you made the right choice.'  
  
Harry was only partially aware of what she was saying, his mind still swirling around her beauty and that horrible voice that echoed harsh wisdom in his mind, and for a split, heart wrenching second, thought he'd spoken aloud when arguing with it. He realized then that Ginny had been referring to the letter clasped in her hands, and breathed another timely sigh of relief. One matter would be dealt with at a time, the voice would come later, should he still be sane enough to fight it. But it was a fight for another day.  
  
'Yes Ginny,' he replied gently, snuggling into her soft red hair as she laid comfortably against his chest.   
  
'The right choice…'  
  
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There, that's chapter 3 down and out of the way. It's been a while since my last update I know, but school has been hassling me greatly. I barely have enough time these days to do anymore than homework, let alone fanfiction. Come to think of it, I should've done homework tonight. Oh well. I do this cos I like you people, and I've got some good ideas as to where this story is headed. I hope I still have you people interested in the story, though it hasn't really taken off yet as you can tell, I have to build it up slowly. Anyway, happy reading.  
  
Regards: Richard 


	4. Wrapping Vines

Chapter 4 – Wrapping Vines  
  
Ginny watched amiably from the front doorstep as Harry sat relaxingly in the knee high grass. Genevieve pranced excitedly about him, shooting questions his way whenever something curious popped into her head, no matter how silly it seemed to ask. Though the day was young, Ginny could see already that Harry's energy was being drained by all the attention, Genevieve could run for hours so it seemed, though she dared not stop it. Harry was enjoying himself immensely despite looking a little out of breath. Eleven years of catching up between father and daughter looked destined to go on until either one of them collapsed… so far that appeared to be Harry, though he made a good enough show to keep up with the young girl, who looked eager enough to learn all of her father's movements since the day she was born.   
  
Harry turned his head towards Ginny and gave her a delighted smile, which she returned happily. All those years alone had served her well it appeared, Harry's homecoming was the happiest thing that had happened for some time. At last her family was back together… at least, now it was a family, where once hope dwindled on the prospect of him ever coming home again, and that was before Genevieve was even born. Now with the morning sun peaking above the horizon, and cool air caressing her face, Ginny could feel a sense of contentment that she'd feared was long since lost. Father and daughter were a match made in heaven, and she could only imagine how he must feel now to know that his life held meaning. A smile formed at the corners of her mouth.   
  
'What's Hogwarts like Dad?' Genevieve asked playfully, her big green eyes as wide as saucers. Harry laughed heartedly as she smiled, propping himself up. He'd never felt so alive in his life.  
  
'Hard to say,' he answered truthfully, his own memories of the school swirling dully about in his head, 'It's been a long time since I went there. Let's see…' and he began counting the years with his fingers. Genevieve broke out laughing as her father quickly lost count and started all over again, scratching his head in confusion.  
  
'Never mind Dad. Mum says it's a great place, I can't wait to go there myself!'  
  
Harry chuckled at his daughter's enthusiasm.  
  
'You'll love it, I guarantee. But I don't want to hear you being sorted into Slytherin you understand?!' And he waved a casually admonishing finger at his daughter, who went cross eyed watching it wave from side to side, '… But I don't think that will happen, you're a good kid. Try to go in Gryffindor, that's my old house. Your mother's too.'  
  
'Really?! Both of you! Wow.' Genevieve looked to Harry with seeming awe, her mouth hanging open unconsciously until she snapped it shut again with a giggle. 'I better make sure I go into Gryffindor then. Okie dokie!'  
  
'That's my girl.'  
  
Harry smiled again, and ran his fingers through her hair, tinges of red and black shining in the morning sunlight, before the two of them began laughing until their throats grew sore, dropping into the green grass. He couldn't tell how many years it had been since he'd laughed so hard. Or laughed at all for that matter. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come.  
  
Ginny stood over him, blocking out the sun's rays. She looked even prettier there than he'd last remembered, the light forming an angelic aura about her as she stood there, a smile broadening on her face.  
  
'Having fun you two?' she asked curiously, Genevieve staring up to her, stray blades of grass sticking out of her hair.   
  
'Yeah, Dad was telling me about Hogwarts… and you know, how you two were both in Gryffindor together. Did you two become like, girlfriend and boyfriend during school or something?'  
  
Ginny looked slightly abashed by the girl's question, but resumed her grin nonetheless, her composure returning. Her daughter had no subtlety at times, only curiosity. Though her query wasn't far off the truth.  
  
'Yes actually. I think… Harry was it sixth year we got together? I believe it was.'  
  
Genevieve swung her head about to face her father, who'd sat upright to answer his wife.  
  
'Yeah, that sounds about right. I remember it well.'  
  
Ginny blushed slightly, raising a hand to her cheeks. The man could sweep her from under her feet with just a few words at times, no matter how innocuous they may seem. It was a talent the man had over her when it was least convenient, though she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be under his spell. That was how long he'd been away from the family. A good thing that affair was all over at last.  
  
'You do eh?' Ginny asked off handedly, raising a suspicious eyebrow, 'How much do you remember exactly? That was a long time ago.'  
  
Harry looked curiously to her, as though searching for a trick to her words, but smiled back mischievously all the same, offering little more than a shrug for an answer. Ginny remembered then a piece of advice her mother told her of men when she and Harry were still eyeing each other hopefully. "A man who claims to know nothing, often knows more than he lets on…" Ginny eyed the man askance as she tried to figure out what she'd meant exactly. Though truth be told, men were a mystery in themselves… sometimes.  
  
Looking to her right, she saw Genevieve sitting quietly next to Harry, a rather confused expression set about her face.  
  
'What's wrong?' Ginny asked her curiously, at a loss to her daughter's sudden change in temperament. Genevieve sat still a bit longer, looking completely absorbed in her own world, before she jerked her head suddenly, as though just realizing she'd been spoken to.  
  
'Oh… what? Nothing!' she answered a little too quickly, a small blush coming to her cheeks. Harry turned his head to her, focusing his attention on the young girl before him.  
  
'Nothing?' he questioned, his brow furrowing slightly at the baffled look on Genevieve's face, though his boyish grin persisted.  
  
'Well… I don't think it's anything to worry about, but…'  
  
'Oh Genevieve, darling, I really think you shouldn't…' Ginny looked to her slightly worried, a small spark of realization wiping over her face as her daughter glanced between them. But Harry wouldn't have it, and leant closer to her until he was almost touching her nose.  
  
'It's alright, really. If there's a question on your mind I'm happy to give you the answer.'  
  
Genevieve stared somewhat idly at Harry's smiling face, casually noticing the lightning bolt scar that laid seared into his forehead, partially hidden by scruffy black hair, before she took a deep breath.  
  
'Well… it's just that, you and mum met at Hogwarts right? But then you married a long time after you both left. Then I didn't see you for eleven years after that. Where were you? What were you doing then? And why weren't you with mum when I was born? Surely whatever you were doing couldn't have been that important! I hear her sometimes, crying in the night, calling for you…' and she trailed off as she looked at Harry's face.   
  
Ginny looked grimly to her husband, who now looked spellbound where he sat. She was afraid something like this was going to happen, right from the moment he came home, and hurriedly rushed to Genevieve's side, holding her by the shoulders. The ever present smile on Harry's face suddenly faltered, his expression darkening to a grim mixture of sadness and remorse as his head dipped low to the ground, skin paling to a dead white.   
  
'I… just wanted to know…' Genevieve finished, but her own face began to pale at that moment as well, utter confusion flowing over her features as she got up and took a hesitant step backwards. Harry had begun muttering to himself in a barely audible voice, his fist opening and closing every so often as silent tears flowed down his cheeks. Ginny felt the air about her constrict slightly, becoming heavier with each breath as she stood, and she gradually pulled Genevieve away step by step. Harry's gaze laid firmly attached to the ground where he sat motionless, the two females eyeing him tensely from there vantage point.  
  
'Genevieve…' Harry spoke shakily, tearing apart the silence about him, 'Go and wait in the house please.' Genevieve looked questionably to him and back to her mother who seemed just as taken aback by the request.  
  
'But Dad…' she pleaded, trying in vain to break away from her mother's white knuckled grip on her.  
  
'Now!' Harry finished, his voice beginning to crack slightly in strain. Genevieve darted back a step in surprise, clear hurt spreading over her face, and barely registered the icy slick of sweat covering her father's skin before she turned and ran back home, the red bow of ribbon in her hair flying behind her as she went. Ginny stood there mouthing uselessly for a moment, before she knelt down at Harry's side, placing a comforting hand on his back.  
  
'I'm sorry Harry,' she spoke softly to him, her voice more like a whimper than an apology, 'Genevieve can get curious at times, she doesn't know what not to ask. Not yet. She's young Harry, don't hate her for that.'  
  
Harry sniffed slightly, raising his head to meet Ginny's eyes. The sight was more than she had been hoping to see of her husband. Harry's face was deathly pale, and glistened in the dull light about them. Ginny only realized then that the seemingly clear sky had roiled most quickly with dark, storm clouds, that threatened rain of a sort. But she kept her eyes firmly on Harry as he sat there and touched his cheek. Ginny drew back at the feel of his skin, that had undertaken a stiff, icy chill to it, and couldn't help but feel sympathy for him despite having sent his daughter away.  
  
'No Ginny,' Harry answered her a choked voice, another tear beginning to roll down his face as he spoke, 'I don't hate her at all. It's understandable that she'd want to know… hell, she wouldn't be my daughter if she didn't at least try.' That last bit sounded a little too rueful for Ginny's liking, and she wasn't entirely sure she was meant to hear that part, but Harry went on, 'It's just hard Ginny… my past is something I'd prefer to forget if I could, Genevieve just caught me unawares I guess… oh, I shouldn't have sent her away like that. Damn I'm paranoid!'   
  
Ginny rubbed his tense back idly as he fought the urge to abandon all respect and cry openly. She could feel his thoughts to a certain extent, and she considered it women's intuition, as her mother had always spoken so fondly of. Regardless of that though, she felt sympathy for him nonetheless. But what fixed her most what that stare of his. She could remember with distinction when Harry's eyes were the deepest shade of emerald green she'd known, so unique compared to her own family of predominate shades of brown. But now, after so long apart, Harry's eyes had dulled to a mournfully grey, that of all things, seemed to radiate an absence or loss of life, where once it had been abundant.  
  
'No you're not Harry,' Ginny spoke soothingly to him, as he eyed her doubtfully, 'You're just tense that's all. But the last few years have been hard for you Harry. I understand…'  
  
At that, Harry's face hardened so that he could've shaved slices off a rock, his gaze turning to ice. Ginny felt naked under that stare, and unwittingly inched back from him as he seemingly stopped breathing, the air about them thickening further until it became very obvious, though it never affected him in the slightest.  
  
'You understand?' he asked softly, which sounded more dangerous than she'd hoped from him, yet his gaze never wavered, 'You really understand?!'  
  
Looking to him with a feeling of exasperation, Ginny didn't know whether to nod her head or shake it grimly, such was the short amount of expression that he showed on his face. She chose instead to sit mute, as his eyes began drilling holes into her head.  
  
'No Ginny, somehow I don't think you understand, and perhaps you wouldn't want to if you knew…'  
  
'What do you mean Harry? You're not making any sense at all.'  
  
'Aren't I? Perhaps you're right. Little makes sense to me these days. Why I left you all those years ago for starters. And why I haven't returned until now. Just the fact that I have a daughter is, well… overwhelming, to say the least. Oh the happiness I feel from that, it's indescribable.'  
  
Ginny gave him a searching look, trying as best she could to see where he was going with this. Harry was making absolutely no sense whatsoever.  
  
'Well… that's good… isn't it?'  
  
Harry returned her his own searching look, as he tapped his foot irritatingly on the cold earth.  
  
'Yes… yes it is.' He spoke half heartedly, his expression refusing to change, 'But it seems I cannot escape my past Ginny, though you can't know how much I've wanted to. When I first saw Genevieve, my heart pounded hard. My life finally meant… something. Something I thought long lost many years ago. A future was what I saw, away from my dealings in the past twenty years. And for a moment I felt joy, at simply being able to brush aside the things I've done and lose myself in happiness and laughter… But then she had to ask that question, and I remembered then that there was no escaping my past. Memories returned, and they hurt. More than any physical wound I assure you, oh how they hurt…'  
  
'Then tell me Harry!' Ginny almost begged him, holding his face in her warm hands, she could've wept herself at that moment, 'Tell me what happened. Maybe then I can help you. You'll only hurt yourself if you hold everything inside, and don't say you're not either, it's plain on your face. I've seen people do this to themselves and be reduced to little more than a crying pile of rags. Surely you aren't stupid!'   
  
And at once she clasped her hands over her mouth with a gasp. She didn't mean to say that to him, and she could feel the crimson rising in her cheeks as he raised an eyebrow. Strangely however, he smiled. If somewhat cold at that.  
  
'I see you've lost none of your edge Ginny.' He spoke in mild tones, yet that seemed to make Ginny blush even more, 'And you are right of course, you've always been right. But… this time, I cannot tell you. Not yet at least. It still haunts me now truth be told. Of course, knowing you as I do, you won't let it rest. And I do thank you for your concern…' then he went strangely quiet for a moment, as he seemed to stare through her, torn as to whether he'd say more or not, but at last he concluded; 'However, if you must know, I'll give you a hint as to what I've had to deal with, and perhaps with that, you may reconsider talking to me on the subject again.'  
  
Ginny was about to retort and say that if he couldn't tell her the entire of it, then there was no use, but no sooner had he said it, he had pulled his outstretched hand up to his face.  
  
'Let me remind you again Ginny,' he spoke again, his face hidden from view, 'You know too little for me to say any more than I have already, and personally, I'd rather not show this to you. But since you're insistent…'  
  
And he waved his hand away quickly, his skin stirring from beneath like Polyjuice potion, almost as if cockroaches were crawling beneath it. Ginny looked to him in horror as his smooth face on his entire left side contorted and twisted, before it settled after a moment, to reveal what seemed like unimaginable burns sweeping across his skin. Except that they weren't burns as such, there was a slight pulsing to them that screamed of magic sunk deep within the massive wound.   
  
Ginny gasped at the sight, making a quick mental comparison between the two different sides of Harry's face. One was the mature, well aged composure Ginny had come to know in her dreams, whilst the other looked as though dragged beneath a razor blade a hundred times, but much deeper into his face. The sight was terrifying, and without thinking, Ginny thrust out her hand to hold his face. Perhaps to comfort him, or to tell herself those wounds did not truly exist. But when her fingers touched it, what seemed like a bolt of electricity shot through her, cut short only when Harry's strong hand grabbed her arm and wrenched it loose from him, pushing her to the ground in the process. Harry stood bolt upright then, looming over Ginny as an icy wind whipped ominously at his billowing, black cloak, the clouds overhead growing pitch black as though a sign of anger or distress.  
  
Ginny made no attempt to get up, but regarded Harry with wariness. That touch of her husband's face felt… evil. There was no other word for it but that, and Ginny knew that taint from her own experiences at Hogwarts. The taint differed very little wherever it was, but it always held that same, sickening feel to it. Like oil rubbed into parched skin, or something similar. Ginny watched as Harry looked down at her from above, the horrible wounds to the side of his face making him appear terrifying in the kindest sense of the word, but a discernable frown appeared then, on at least the normal half of his face, whilst the other twisted gut wrenchingly.  
  
Moving his hand upwards, he made a quick wiping action in the air in front of his face, which began to magically shift itself into it's proper smoothness once more, making him the Harry she remembered again. He sighed audibly, not trying to hide his sadness. Ginny at least understood to a degree that his explaining of events might have to… no, would have to wait for another day. A day when he was ready. For a second Harry breathed deeply, and then his jaw locked up tight, his expression returning to the same hard look that she'd seen on him earlier. It almost looked as though he were ignoring his pain, but Ginny's feminine instincts told her again that he was enduring every moment of it like agony.  
  
'I won't mention exactly how I got those wounds Ginny,' he spoke as if to answer her questioning looks, 'All I can really say is that considerable dark magic was used when I was hit, but then, I guess you realized that for yourself didn't you?'  
  
Ginny looked to her hand, which she had splayed up before her face. It practically quivered from the experience of touching him. An experience of which, she was not too fond of having again.  
  
'I'm sorry Harry,' she spoke in barely audible tones, her voice a whisper, 'I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you first told me… I guess I'm just not used to this kind of thing… It hurts?'  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
'Everyday. My healing couldn't help me as much with this type of wound for some reason. I'm not sure why, perhaps it was because of the way it was inflicted that it remained. All I could do was fill in the scars with my own living skin tissue, but at times that hurts more than the wound itself. It's something I've had to deal with for seventeen years now, yet it feels freshly melted. I never truly repaid the person who gave it to me.'  
  
Ginny gave him a commiserating look between winces, which was partly from the pain Harry had received and partly due to the throbbing evil that still pulsed through her own skin. A simple touch had brought about such pain in her flesh and yet a touch was all it had been. She couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have a thousand times that amount embedded into her face, not to mention being forced to live with it everyday of her life.   
  
'It must be horrible for you…' she spoke softly, her eyes downcast. She didn't know whether she had it inside herself to look into his graying eyes. Somehow things slowly began fitting into place, if somewhat vaguely. 'Every night I dreamt about you Harry. Always wondering why you left, and what you were doing when you weren't at home. And I never knew precisely what that was… I hated you for it at first. Hated you to the core. You were there one minute and then gone the next, I didn't know what to think half the time, nothing made sense to me. But the months dragged on, then they became years. And every night I had those same dreams, over and over again, always wondering where you were, but you never came back… When Genevieve was born, I thought the worst, but I stopped hating you then. It turned to hope… hope that you would hear and come back to me, but that never happened. You missed the entire of your daughter's life Harry! Why?!'  
  
Harry stood stone still, his body taught with strain, a small bead of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead.   
  
'I don't know Ginny.' He answered abruptly, taking Ginny aback, 'I wonder that everyday I lay eyes on you and Genevieve. It… tears me apart on the inside just wondering what the two of you went through. And I mean it when I say that I believe there's nothing I can do that will atone for it. All that I can do is to give myself to you both fully, that's partly why I went for the Hogwarts position in the first place. I can stay close to our daughter then. It certainly won't make up for the time lost, but it's better than nothing… If you want to find out why I was gone for so long, then ask Dumbledore. I can safely lay everything at his feet, now more than ever, as I don't know if I can summon the courage to tell you myself.'  
  
Ginny moved towards him slightly without realizing it, though her mind wasn't in it. Dumbledore? What did he have to do with everything?  
  
'I might just do that Harry… but…' and she made a point to meet him stare for stare, no matter how much those grey eyes hurt her inside. 'What about Genevieve? I think you were too hard on her then, afterall you've only been home a two days.'  
  
Harry blinked in an uncertain fashion before knuckling his forehead awkwardly, he seemed torn inside, muttering oddly to himself then as if Ginny were non-existent.  
  
'Yes… yes you're right.' He said after a while, licking his lips uncertainly, 'I was too hard on her wasn't I? Hmm… I best make it up to her somehow.' And he twisted where he stood and began making his way down the grassy hill towards the house. Ginny had no doubts that Genevieve was sulking inside, though this would prove Harry's first test as a father. It was widely believed that if your children hated you, then you were being a good parent, though whether or not Harry believed in that old wives tale, Ginny wasn't entirely sure. In his wake, Harry looked impressively scary. That was probably as best as he could be described. Sure he was handsome as well, there was no denying that, but he definitely had the air of someone who'd been sharpened continually throughout their life, and quite possibly against their will. It was sad to think about, and Ginny still felt slightly off ease at seeing a hint of what had happened to him, yet despite that, she was more concerned for Harry's mind and whether it was more fragile now than it had ever been. He still sounded the same, still looked the same, and still felt love for her in the way he had when they'd married, but something was different about him. She couldn't quite put her finger on precisely what that was exactly.   
  
Whether it was that sharpness about him, his imposing demeanor or something far colder, there was no telling. Harry seemed to wear so little emotion about himself at times that it would look as though he could outlast a stone just staring at it. Ginny felt a little guilty about thinking such things however, and tried as she might to focus on events as they were. She'd spent long years in a gloomy depression, hating Harry, loving Harry and sometimes even grieving for Harry, all the while not truly knowing where he was or what he was doing. He could have been dead for all she knew, and that was one prospect that had deeply affected her just thinking of it, though it did not do well to dwell on such things. Harry was home now, that was all that mattered. And best of all, he still loved her as much as he had before, perhaps more due to their separation. But nevertheless, Harry's nature had somehow changed, though she was daft if she could figure it out. It was something deep, definitely, and his seeming unwillingness to tell her exactly what had become of him during his years abroad worked only to strengthen her suspicions, and her worry, of him even further than she would've liked.   
  
No, the important thing was that he was home. There was no denying that something had happened to him that he found hard to talk about, but that was another problem for another time, and something that Harry would be the one to reveal, once he was ready. She made a point not to forget that. Harry's small display still put shivers down her spine whenever she thought of it, and it proved just how little she knew. But one day soon, Harry would confide in her, no matter how hard and painful to him it might be… and she would be there for him… Casually she watched Harry's well toned form move effortlessly beneath his long, black cloak. His strides seemed to cover more ground than her own as the tall grass parted for him, but even so, she felt a spark of happiness at knowing that for every dream she had, wishing for his return, one of them came true. And so, she silently followed her husband up the stone steps of the cottage's veranda, hoping beyond hope that when father and daughter clashed, Harry might make it out unscathed. Ginny withheld a small smile…   
  
Remus Lupin irritatingly smoothed down the creases of his drably overused cloak as he stood idly on Professor Dumbledore's revolving staircase. Multiple hand sewn patches laid unevenly dispersed across the moldy piece of clothing, which in itself had earned quite a number of reproachful looks in the past, sewing by hand was considered a lost art amongst muggles these days, and non-existent for wizards. But it was all he could do not to discard it and acquire a new one. Those patches meant something to him, and he felt a stab of pride knowing that he'd sewn them without the aid of magic, which would've been neater and faster by far, the logical choice. Something however, gave him the urge to learn of the old ways, and at that thought he could not help but chuckle. His liking for all things Muggle may have only begun when the peace amnesty had been signed all those years back, but at this rate, he'd be turning into another Arthur Weasley in no time.   
  
The latter at least reminded him of his rather extended years, and he unwittingly fingered strands of his graying hair, something only partly spurned on by the regular werewolf transformations he experienced each full moon. Truth be told though, he was getting older. Perhaps not necessarily wiser, but certainly older, and he could not help but feel rather hesitant at Dumbledore's harrying request for him, which was to be met with all the speed he could muster. Sure Dumbledore still looked as nimble as a thirty year old, yet whatever the wizard's age might be, Dumbledore was a unique kind of person, and Remus Lupin deserved to be taking it easy, rather than gallivanting about the country side at another old man's request. Oh yes… he was TOO old for this. Whatever could the elderly man want with him? Not another errand hopefully, he'd had his fair share of those that was for sure. Perhaps it was a social call?… He thought on it a little… and dismissed it. A very long shot indeed. But if not that, then what? Hastily he smoothed down his robes again, half aware of a thin slick of sweat covering his forehead. Those wrinkled creases didn't seem to want to come out of the age old fabric, and he feared perhaps his weathered face was mirroring with wrinkles of their own.   
  
He hoped he didn't look as nervous as he felt, though all thought of that left him as he stepped lightly into Dumbledore's spacious office. At least that had lost none of it's luster over the years, unlike it's owner, who sat idly behind his desk, watching him approach. Dumbledore's long, white beard looked as though it had been molded from snow, and his head seemed creased ever so thoroughly with worry lines, yet they looked old. His skin had grown slightly more blotchy than he last remembered as well, but all in all it was the same Albus Dumbledore he'd known from his Hogwarts days. A kind old man with a hint of mystery, and a fatherly glint sparkling in his eyes that always managed to put you at ease despite your concerns. He felt a good deal of affection towards the man, and would have greeted him happily were he able to ignore the butterflies rumbling in his stomach. What did he want? He turned his head slightly to Dumbledore's left, where he saw Minerva McGonagall in long green robes, standing stiffly on the spot, her attention focused on Dumbledore without realizing that he'd entered. With fists on hips, she vented what felt like a silent fury at the old mage, her eyes widened to the size of saucers and a glint of thunder sparking within them.  
  
Usually when a woman did that, a man was wise to keep quiet… or run. And it did nothing to help soothe Remus's flamboyant stomach. If anything, it inflamed it further. Yet McGonagall's stabbing glares seemed to be having very little effect on the school headmaster, if any, and he waved a dismissive hand towards the headmistress, whose eyes widened even further. That seemed rather unlike the professor.  
  
'You cannot commit to this Albus!' she protested vainly to the bearded man, shaking her fist about herself like a weapon, 'I've gone along with you up until now because I saw sense in your approach to matters, but this is beyond sense. Dealing with scum like that, there's no telling what they're up to. It's bordering ludicrousy Professor, ludicrousy!'  
  
Dumbledore once again waved her off with an admonishing hand, choosing against staring at her directly. Albus was never one to do that unless his anger truly peaked, and he was a master of his own self control.  
  
'You follow me Minerva because you have no other alternative,' he answered the flustered woman, who clicked her tongue in annoyance, 'And I assure you this will succeed as I have expected. Your concerns are welcome, and have been noted.'  
  
McGonagall crossed her arms in a rather sulky fashion… Sulky! Remus never thought he'd see the like from the head teacher of Transfiguration, and raised an eyebrow despite himself.  
  
'Noted?!' and she made a frustratingly vexed sound beneath her breath as she looked down her nose at the man, 'Humph! Ignored more like it, I would've thought your age warranted wisdom on your part.'  
  
'Noted Professor, but not ignored. It is a fools errand to ignore advice from people, but in regards to yours, I will not act on it. Not yet… At any rate, this is hardly the time to be discussing such matters. If it pleases, I'll converse with you later on the matter when time and circumstances permit. Besides, I believe Mr Lupin here is awaiting his appointment with me, you may leave now Minerva.'  
  
McGonagall's head whipped about of a sudden, her eyes blinking uncertainly at him as though just realizing he was there. Hastily she closed her gaping mouth, sharing with him a part of the scowl she'd delivered to Albus a few moments ago, before swiftly turning on her heel a striding ever so elegantly from the room, muttering beneath her breath.  
  
'Barmy old man!' she hissed through gritted teeth as she past Remus with a sidelong glance. That certainly wasn't at all like McGonagall. Remus wasn't sure whether that last comment was meant for himself or for Dumbledore, but either way, Albus crooked a rather bleak expression at her leaving, and seemed rather pleased the old lady was on her way.  
  
'Remus!' he spoke joyfully to him then, as McGonagall's serene façade disappeared from view down the spiral staircase. 'A pleasure you could come on such short notice, I hope I wasn't being to forward asking you to join me.'  
  
Remus returned to him some semblance of a smile, before taking a seat at Albus's gesture. Those butterflies hadn't stopped fluttering.  
  
'No no, not at all Professor, I'm more than happy to come, though I do wonder what use you would have for an old man like me.'  
  
Dumbledore gave a small chuckle at the comment, placing his hands casually on the wooden writing desk before him. He always was one to laugh at a joke, even if one wasn't intended.  
  
'You needn't be nervous old friend,' he spoke lightly, it lessened the butterflies only a little, 'I'm not going to send you on another wild goose chase Remus, I've no doubt you remember the last…'  
  
'Oh yes indeed.' Remus replied, casting his mind back a few years. He could picture it clearly as though it were yesterday. Dumbledore had contacted him in the late afternoon in regards to a missing student – a muggle, and concerns had been raised that he'd wandered into the forbidden forest. Naturally the school had been searched top to bottom a dozen times without any trace of the boy, and Albus had put it to him that someone who knew the forbidden forest better than most would have an easier time finding him. Of course he'd been quick to accept, if not a little grudgingly, but soon enough he was out searching the dark wood leaf by leaf for any sign that the student had passed through. It seemed as harmless a task as was possible to receive, but it dragged on for four days without even a smell of the lad, thus reducing him to a desperate wreck. Returning to the castle feeling ashamed of himself for not finding the boy, Dumbledore announced incredulously that on the first day of his absence, the boy had been found hiding from Peeves in a place none other than beneath his writing desk! Remus remembered clearly the urge he'd had to scream in frustration on that day, but in the end it all proved an immense laugh. Partly due to the headmaster's surprising neglect to search his office, and partly to how worked up about it Remus had become. But as said, it was all an immense laugh in the end.   
  
'Yeah, I remember it well Professor. How long was I gone for again? Three days, four?'  
  
'Too long.' Albus spoke matter of factly, easing his back against the large wooden chair that was reserved for only the headmaster of Hogwarts. 'I hope you don't hold it against me after all these years.'  
  
Remus's mouth twitched into a small smile at the corners of his lips.  
  
'No, not at all.'  
  
'Just as well then, though I'm sure you're wondering why you're here, am I correct?'  
  
Remus nodded, steepling his hands together under Albus's fatherly gaze. At times that stare could be more of an irritant than a means of putting yourself at ease. They seemed to stare right through you when you least wanted it.  
  
'Well, to put your mind at ease Remus, there is no task of you that requires your direct input. I see the graying hairs in your head have earned you some respite yet. Rather, you're here as I need to inform you of something. It's the Defense posting, we have a new replacement.'  
  
Remus looked curiously to him, though the news did bare some surprise at least.  
  
'A replacement?!' he spoke disbelievingly, arching an eyebrow, 'I thought you'd sucked the world dry looking. Who is it, a house elf?'  
  
Surprisingly Albus did not laugh at the joke. He had intended for him to at that one, was his own humor beginning to dry as did Dumbledore's search for new teachers? Instead, the old wizard withdrew from his pocket a small, folded up piece of parchment, which he handed to him across the desk. Opening it, Remus read it without twitching a muscle, save for his eyebrows which retreated further into his scalp.  
  
'Harry?' he asked disbelievingly, passing the letter back to Dumbledore's outstretched hand, 'Harry Potter? I thought he was dead!'  
  
At that Albus chose to laugh, though Remus couldn't quite see the humor in that. Harry was a very close friend to him, and when news came of his death in suspicious circumstances, he was almost shattered in grief.  
  
'No he's not dead, but for security reasons it was passed along the rumor mill that he was. Needless to say that I cannot discuss that with you as a matter of Unified law, Harry's workings in the world are not to be known by the common people.'  
  
Remus nodded again, this time without really thinking on it. He did a lot of nodding in audience of the headmaster he realized.  
  
'Even so,' Albus continued, fingering the letter idly with his fingers, 'Harry will teach here at the beginning of this semester, and as long as he sees fit for that matter. Dare I say, he is most definitely THE best the world has to offer, short of someone who actually practices the dark arts.'  
  
'Quite a bold statement to make Professor. Are you entirely sure on this?'  
  
'I would stake it on my life, which I admit now is growing ever shorter.' And he visibly attempted to suppress a shuddering cough as he made his way to his feet, before walking across the office floor towards a small glass window that overlooked the school grounds. Staring out with a tinge of regret, he watched the sultry movements of hovercraft zooming past his window in the numerous traffic lanes that now shadowed the school from overhead, making odd buzzing noises whenever they passed within a few meters of the castle walls. He audibly sighed.  
  
'Unfortunate to say Remus, but soon enough I will die. I can feel my heart slowing each day, even now as we speak. I believe that I'm part of a bygone era, my old fashioned kind does not really belong in this modern world of ours…' and grimaced slightly at the ever increasing traffic outside, yet another contraption produced from a blending of magic and technology, but turned away from it to stare at Remus directly, his twinkling eyes fading somewhat for a moment before they regained their luster.  
  
'You don't really mean that Professor,' Remus protested, inching slightly forwards on his seat, 'You've always been more likely to adapt to changes than anyone else…' but he abruptly cut off at the stare that Dumbledore gave him, it seemed resigned to it's fate, no matter what anyone else should say.  
  
'No Remus, I'm afraid it's true, and I will not sugar coat the truth. I am an old man, and nearing the end of my line. It was my hope that if this world were to prosper with this peace between wizards and muggles, then I should leave it scoured of those of whom threaten to tear it down. By that I mean anyone practicing the dark arts, and I assure you it's quite a task, one of which I beginning to doubt I'll complete before I die, but I do not regret ever beginning it.'  
  
Remus furrowed his brow slightly, looking to him with a slight sense of remorse. Albus looked as though he had resigned to his fate a long time ago, but what was he getting at exactly. As if mimicking his thoughts, Albus changed the subject slightly, sounding as though he had delved away from what he wanted to discuss.  
  
'Anyway, the point I'm getting at is no more confusing than the predicament I face. Sad to say, I have taken away from Harry the years that he should have spent attending to his family, and I admit it now that I had absolutely no right to do such a thing to him, no matter what my reasons were at the time. I thought perhaps with his retirement at hand, he may wish to settle down with a nice, quiet teaching position. Since he is experienced and we are in need, the choice was a simple one to make… or so I believed.'  
  
And at that he pulled out his wand and waved it deftly over his desk, outlining a large rectangular shape that quickly solidified into what looked like an old, dusty leather book, it's corners bound with ornately gilded silver worked into the shape of leafy vines wrapping themselves about it's exterior. In the center of it, surrounded by gold rose petals, laid a plaque of emerald with an inscription of ancient runes carved into it. A sight worthy to take in anyone's eyes. The precious stones and metals binding the book would be sufficient enough to fetch a good sum of galleons anywhere if sold to the right people, but that was not why Remus found himself wide eyed and gaping at the book laying stiffly on Dumbledore's desk. His eyes slid methodically over it's age old title.  
  
'Vinareer o' Liege… the book of the Wrapping Vines! Where did you get this?'  
  
Dumbledore looked down at the ancient volume staring up at him with an expression that Remus couldn't quite fathom, though he realized he was deep in thought.  
  
'You're full of surprises old friend, I was unaware you were capable with the old tongue.'  
  
'Well… I pick things up every now and then, and I pick up enough from people to know that this book is…' his eyes locked onto the book with rapture, his mind beginning to blur slightly only feeling half aware of his hand reaching towards the ancient artifact in a trembling fashion. It seemed to call to him in sultry tones… "Remus… Remus… Remus…"  
  
'Remus!' Dumbledore spoke in a firm voice, breaking him out of his trance. Quickly he withdrew his hand, his eyes glaring down at the book with a renewed sense of fear. And he swallowed hard.  
  
'That book is evil Professor… evil.' Yet he did not relinquish his stone eyed stare at the book, that sat ominously silent before the headmaster. Albus sighed.  
  
'I must learn of where you "pick up" these things Remus. It would be of great interest to me. Especially since only a select few know of the books…'  
  
Remus abruptly broke his gaze and stared to Albus questionably.  
  
'Books?! You mean there are others?'  
  
Dumbledore buried his face into his hands at releasing that fact, realizing just how far his age had dulled his wits no doubt.  
  
'Yes, there are others. And they are not in such capable hands as my own. But that should not concern you Remus. No it shouldn't.'  
  
Remus looked back to the book with a sense of loss. He always was a bit of a historian, he would very much have liked to learn more of these books, especially considering their past. Dumbledore went on.  
  
'Nevertheless, I show this too you because it contains knowledge Remus. Powerful knowledge at that too. Someone of whom is untrained physically and mentally may destroy a city with what is contained in this book alone…'  
  
Remus instinctively pulled back from the table in a rush, his eyes as wide as saucers at the object Dumbledore referred to so casually.   
  
'However, considering that capability, for someone of whom IS trained, the prospect of destruction is raised ten fold, and that is where my situation lies. Harry is now ranked amongst the powerful wizards in the world… in fact, you could not really class him as a wizard at all, he is a Prodigen Mage.'  
  
Remus felt like a club had hit him at that last comment.  
  
'A Prodigen Mage?! Impossible!' the words came with a choking sensation from his mouth, he'd always been brought up to believe that Prodigens, wizards who were capable of vast amounts of wandless magic, were a force to be feared and despised. He had been told from someone who heard it from someone who'd heard it from someone else, that a sole Prodigen Mage was responsible for the war twenty years ago, though he'd never have believed it had the proof of their existence not laid directly before him.   
  
'It can't be Albus, it just can't be… not Harry!' but Albus turned him a rather knowing look that told him exactly how much he did not know.  
  
'I am afraid that is the cold truth of matters Remus. And rumors such as that which you have heard were the driving force behind armed mobs killing anyone with so much as a spark the wandless ability within them. And most of those could barely light a candle. Harry however, he is a different case entirely. Harry's strength in magic is beyond that of any living to date since Merlin himself, and I know this because he has been working under my guidance for years now, so as to steady his learning and prevent him from killing himself with magic.'  
  
Remus looked to him, feeling rather shocked, but still as confused as before. What did all this have to do with the book?  
  
'The point however, is that Harry's energy has peaked for the first time since the ability within him became known, and if he continues to wield it like this, he may well find that death has swift but agonizing wings. Unless…' and he fingered the gold leaves on the book's ancient cover, 'unless he is supported… Harry needs this book for his life and for more besides than you can possibly know. I fear however that despite whatever good the book of the Wrapping Vines may have… through him, it will carve a path to far greater misery, and that makes my decision difficult.'  
  
Remus looked to the old man with a touch of sympathy, but also worry as his thought inevitably turned to his old friend Harry. He yearned to see him again after all these years, but then, even that he supposed he should think carefully on. He was a Prodigen Mage, and a danger to everyone.  
  
'I don't understand Professor,' Remus chimed in, his sweat evaporating with the heated headache in his skull, 'Harry is coming here Albus. If what you say is true, then Harry's presence here may prove more than dangerous…'  
  
Albus nodded half heartedly, yet his eyes seemed to indicate that he was tearing away at himself inside once more. Torn in a decision.  
  
'True Remus, quite true. But I owe him as well, for years of torment that I cannot simply undo with a few quick words. I do not want to force Harry into a corner, but that book is as you say… evil.'  
  
Remus sat himself back against the wooden chair, exhaling a sharp breath he didn't realize he was holding.  
  
'Then what Professor? What would you have me do? At this point in time I can see little I may be of use for, Harry sounds far more powerful than I could ever have imagined.'  
  
Dumbledore's mouth vexed in thought, all the while his finger stroked the ornate gilded silver about the book's edges, until at last he came up with a thought.  
  
'It is quite simple Remus,' he spoke in tones of resignation, not something he was used to hearing from the old man, 'As long as Harry's anger fuels his powers, he is one step closer to self annihilation, and I've no doubt he feels there is a score worth settling at me for the years he lost. However, at the same time I cannot give him this book, or any of the others with which to save him. The chances of him losing control are far to great, especially considering that he ALREADY has one!'  
  
Remus almost choked when Albus said this, his mind reeling at the possibility that self annihilation may not be too far away even as he spoke. But he did his best to compose himself regardless of it, yet it tickled his mind constantly.  
  
'Then what chance do we have Albus? By the sounds of it, we may already be too late!'  
  
Albus nodded, stroking his beard a little.  
  
'Hmm, perhaps we are. But there is time yet, and I vow to solve this mystery. This is what I ask of you Remus…'  
  
So much for not being asked to do anything.  
  
'For Harry, anger equals power. Power that I can ill afford to loose on so many unprepared people, students and teachers alike. Being a former Defense teacher yourself, I thought perhaps you might assist him in his lessons, and keep his temper as cooled as humanly possible. Say that you are merely helping in instruction as it is his first attempt at teaching, but if it costs you everything Remus you must keep him calm long enough that I can work out a solution to stop him from ceasing, as I swear on my grave that I will never hand him any of those books willingly.'  
  
Remus nodded… again. It seemed straight forward enough, but it scared him to the core. Not just because of the rumors he'd heard of Prodigens, but the fact that he was quite literally playing with forces well beyond his control and understanding.  
  
'What if I fail Albus? What then?'  
  
'I'm afraid that is not an option I want you to even consider Remus. I ask this of you because I trust you far more than most and because the stakes are unbelievably high. You will keep him calm Remus.'  
  
'Or what?' he said without thinking and immediately wished he had not, for Dumbledore's gaze pierced him suddenly to the bone.  
  
'Then Harry will die… and all of us with him!'   
  
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Well, that wasn't a bad sized chapter at all was it? It's been a little while I know, but the first few chapters of this story must be longer than those of the other story for the simple reason that I feel more confident in my writing now. I hope that this pikes up a little interest, we all know now how much Harry loves his family, though his past is shrouded in secret. But how much does Dumbledore know? You'll all find out soon enough as the chapters continue, though I do admit that the first few are the most difficult to write as you have to lay down the ground rules of the story in a detailed fashion, and I'd rather not try to change the chapters should I get a good idea late in the story. That's the trouble with writing I guess, but that's more so for me to worry about. I only want my audience to enjoy my work, if it doesn't bore them too much, and I look forward to writing the next chapter as I'm hoping you are all looking forward to reading it. So I'll see you all later then, I gotta get started on the next chapter. Happy reading.  
  
Regards: Richard 


	5. A Horrible Past

Chapter 5 – A Horrible Past  
  
Howling drafts of wind seeped through the miniscule gaps of metal that pepper coated Ginny's disused "Lev-Wing", a small three person aircraft that she usually kept locked away in a secluded garage. Now however, after years of neglect, it soared high amidst the roiling masses of fluffy white clouds, which formed a veritable blanket across the sky. It could be admitted that lack of need was precisely why she'd kept the ungainly contraption hidden away under lock and key for all these years. And she often wondered why she'd chosen to keep it, rather than selling it to the first person she saw with an eye for antiques. The image of her father had come to mind more often than not, his beaming face radiating the pride that he'd once felt at owning it, just after the dangers of port key travel had become known. But alas, that was no longer the case. With new models coming out each year and alternative forms of transport filling the gaps port key travel had left, Arthur Weasley had been quick to "hand down" the small craft to his daughter, whilst he secretly eyed another, more powerful version. Strangely enough however, Harry had seen some use in it yet, and the decision was made to bring it out of retirement, though Ginny felt highly skeptical the machine would still work at all. Though she kept her admonishments to herself.  
  
Sitting uncomfortably in the molded leather seat, Ginny wrung her hands tirelessly in a vain attempt to keep warm. The atmosphere at this altitude was stone cold, the wayward drafts of air filtering through the craft's exterior grabbed at her arm with icy tendrils, chilled her to the bone. She would've given anything at that point for a pair of warm gloves, or better yet, a new Lev-Wing. The current models at least had heaters. Heaters! The idle thought of warmth brought only shallow comfort however. Much more of this and she wouldn't be able to feel her own hands. Casting a brief look to her right, Genevieve sat quietly, smothered up to her neck in thick woolens. Despite having a very chilled look about her face, nothing else could construe that she was in any way feeling the cold as much as she. Ginny couldn't help but stare ruefully at her, silently envying Genevieve's brains to bring something warm with her. Not noticing her mother though, Genevieve stared unblinkingly out the pressurized wind shield, her attention focused on the swarming masses of other Lev-Wings, flying before them in organized columns that stretched ahead for miles, and likely behind as well for that matter. If seen from the ground, it would look like a giant snake, slithering it's way across the sky without beginning, nor end. Air traffic usually was heavy towards midday, though there was nothing that could be done to avoid the fender to fender jam without attracting notice of the law. The seemingly slow pace of the flyer would have to suffice for now…  
  
Sitting on Genevieve's right, Harry sat straight backed against his leather seat with both arms stretched out, hands grasping at the craft's twin control handles that he manipulated deftly to adopt to changing wind conditions. The Lev-Wing seemed more an extension of his body, as Ginny was certain his Firebolt had been during their Hogwarts years, twitching mid-flight at the slightest touch, and reacting as much to the man's will as might his fingers and toes. Precision on a broomstick as well for a Lev-Wing, was never truly Ginny's own strong point, though not out of lack of trying. Her fingers could be delicate at times, but never precise. She admired her husband for that at least. However, try as she might, she couldn't understand Harry's unusual dress sense. He knew very well he'd be flying high altitude, yet nevertheless, he'd chosen to omit his flowing robes in favor of clothes that allowed more movement. A long, leather trench coat pressed firmly against his strong chest, Ginny couldn't help but lick her lips at that, and continued down to below his knees. Strangely, he'd chosen to take the sleeves off, baring the well toned muscles in his arms. How on earth could he stand the cold?! At the least he should have had goosebumps across his skin, though in truth he showed as little reaction to the temperature as did Genevieve, save of course for his shallow breathing that blew clouds of warm mist in front of his face.  
  
Abruptly, Harry looked down, pursing his lips slightly.  
  
'I think we're passing over it now…' he spoke, breaking Ginny from her reverie. Gathering herself, she hastily stared downwards through the transparent glass beneath her feet, seeing through whisps of fluffy white clouds to the familiar patchwork of green and yellow fields below. The sight brightened her expression for a moment, and for once since they'd taken off, she forgot about the cold.  
  
'Yes, yes. I think this is it,' she replied a little vaguely, her eyes washing over the land below her. That held a sense of recognition for her, she knew those fields from the day she was born. 'Just don't drop too fa…'  
  
Without warning, Harry pulled a lever sharply and dorsal thrusters suddenly fired above the passenger compartment, sending the Lev-Wing into a violent, plummeting descent towards the earth. Mother and daughter screamed in fright as their bodies were flung upwards, sticking them to the ceiling, only just realizing that older Lev-Wings were not equipped with seatbelts. A broad smile stretched across Harry's face from ear to ear as the drafts of air leaking inside became a thunderous torrent of wind spinning around him, even though he managed somehow to stay glued to his seat. Adrenaline pumped fiercely through his veins.   
  
Between yells Ginny could only make out whipping layers of cloud passing by the windows, flashing one after another as the machine fell from the sky at breakneck speed, it's outer shell rattling from the pressure as the altitude meter counted down the feet rapidly. 7000… 6000… 5000 it continued on, red warning lights suddenly flashing about them as the craft's fuselage threatened to break up in the fall. The smile widened on Harry's face, looking like a picture of madness.  
  
'STOP!!!' Ginny screamed at the top of he lungs, though her screams were barely audible over the thunderous roaring of wind around them. 'YOU'LL KILL US ALL!!!'  
  
Harry appeared not to heed her, his eyes were wide in excitement as he watched the green and gold patchwork of fields below grow ever closer, his hands shaking on the control handles as the Lev-Wing was hammered by gusts of turbulent wind from all sides. And he laughed… Was the man out of his mind?! Looking to her right, Ginny looked to the horrified expression that had overcome Genevieve's face, her expression twisted into a permanent state of horror as she was flung bodily about the aircraft's crampt interior. She looked on the verge of screaming her lungs out, yet no sound would come… 4000… 3000… The red lights flashed blindingly around them, the swirling image of the land below growing incredibly large in the windshield as the Lev-Wing continued to plummet, the rattling of the craft turning into a bone shaking shudder as layers of air began smashing from the outside almost constantly. This couldn't be how it was all to end! Ginny's mind worked frantically, unable to see sense beyond the mountains of insurmountable panic building within her.  
  
Casually, Harry's arm moved to his left, pulling at the lever meant to engage the ventral thrusters. Yet the engines refused to start, screaming their defiance with a series of horrible groaning noises that cut to the bone. Something that seemed reminiscent of irritation suddenly flashed across his eyes. Nothing was happening! His wife looked to be going mad next to him, and his daughter look no better, even as he gingerly tried the lever again, pulling slowly at it as though he had all the time in the world… 2000… 1000…  
  
'AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!' Ginny screamed, seeing her own end flash before her eyes as the red lights suddenly shattered from the pressure, spraying the cockpit with cutting shards of glass that sliced into the side of Harry's face. The man didn't so much as flinch as blood began dripping down the left side of his face, but kept his gaze firmly attached to the metal lever that stuck out mockingly from it's holster. Almost challenging him. Gritting his teeth in anger, Harry violently struck the lever, and with a shocking mechanical jolt in the engines, the thrusters suddenly came on line, blasting super heated columns of air below the Lev-Wing. Ginny yelled in surprise as the aircraft heaved in mid-air, and she found herself sandwiched face first into the metal floor as it's descent began to rapidly slow.   
  
Harry's grip on the control handles tightened as he directed every possible flow of energy to the thrusters, which began to whip up clouds of swirling dust as the Lev-Wing approached within meters of the ground. His attention twitched nervously between the hundreds of switches and gauges over the control panel before him, whilst simultaneously looking below him to the ground which began rising up to meet him. It didn't look as though it was going to survive the descent! And Harry's mouth widened slightly, his teeth bared as his gaze scathed the grassy earth below.  
  
'Brace yourselves…' he spoke sharply, before twirling his fingers about his head in a wheel like motion. For a second nothing happened, until suddenly, the craft halted mid-air as though a giant hand had grabbed the machine in flight. The interior rocked violently for a hair of a second before it gently eased itself to the ground, landing gear landing softly onto the green grass as the engines began winding down. The reverberating hum of the machine dwindling softly before it ceased, being replaced by an ominous silence as Ginny fought to catch her breath between pants, her hair splayed out haphazardly in several directions.   
  
As the dust about them settled, Harry stroked the stubble of hair on his chin in a casual manner, running a finger over the thrust lever. A look of puzzlement came over his face.  
  
'Hmm,' he muttered softly, not noticing the scathing look that Ginny was giving him, 'I think this thing could do with a tune-up.' And at that Genevieve roared with tumultuous laughter.  
  
'WHOOHOOO!!!' she shouted aloud, breaking the silence, 'That was awesome Dad!' and she and Harry exchanged a riotous high five, punching the air enthusiastically. Ginny glared sideways at them as she fought her own breathlessness.  
  
'You knew he was going to do that?!' she asked disbelievingly, her eyes scraping over her daughter as she stared idly by. Genevieve merely gave an amused shrug and hopped out the door, leaving her to sit there stewing. Ginny didn't know whether she was quite able to move after such a plunge through the atmosphere, her legs felt like they were made of jelly. But once she took a hesitant step outside, the sensation of solid ground sent waves of pent up relief surging through her body. Perhaps she'd been afraid she'd never feel the earth again. She should've known that Harry wouldn't let any harm come to them, when she felt the Lev-Wing jolt mid-air like it did. Afterall, he had been surviving beyond contact for the last twenty years. And it certainly didn't feel natural for the craft to halt that way… Harry must've used magic.  
  
Shrugging off the thought, she stepped away from the contraption, and made her way hazily behind Harry, who'd slowed to wait for her. He had what appeared to be a rather dubious expression about him, biting his lip and such as Ginny eyed him warily.  
  
'Remind me again whether I'm doing the right thing.' He spoke quietly to her, out of earshot of Genevieve, who'd begun wandering away from them. Ginny thought for a second that he was talking of the near death experience she just had, but held back the idea as she looked into Harry's grey eyes.  
  
'Sure you are Harry,' she spoke in soothing tones, caressing his face with a gentle hand. 'You've been too long away from us you know. I think… that it's time you returned home.'  
  
It was difficult at that moment to quite establish what Harry was thinking in his complex mind, but he mouthed the words quietly to himself as Ginny turned him about.  
  
'I'm… home.'  
  
'Yes, welcome home…'  
  
And she looked up, her eyes sweeping across the long grass of familiar green fields. On a clear day you could often see for many miles in any given direction. She knew this because, quite simply, she used to live here. Turning her gaze slightly to her left, Harry's own stare followed her, setting upon a place he hadn't seen for many years now… The Burrow.  
  
Standing tall and looking as rickety as ever, The Burrow cast a shadow across the grassy hills surrounding it, which wafted sultrily in the gentle breeze. Faint lights could be seen shining from beyond the windows, and smells of cooking bread seemed to ride the wind from the old house. Ginny looked appraisingly at The Burrow, it's countless mish mashed rooms sticking to some invisible core at the center of the building, jutting out gut wrenchingly. If not for magic, such a building would've fallen down long ago, had it survived construction. But to Ginny, it was home. She only hoped that Harry felt the same way. Looking to her left, Harry had assumed a rather sickly look about his face, going an odd pale color. Ginny held his hand reassuringly as they walked towards the old house, and he returned a rather constrained smile. Though it was a smile at least. The question was, how were her parents going to react to him after so long? She'd thought vaguely on it before, but still held a rather apprehensive feeling about it. So long…  
  
Stepping up to the front door, Ginny stood by her husband as he stood there gathering breath. He was definitely nervous, but he looked resigned now, as though dragging up whatever courage he had. As he was about to knock however, Ginny put out her hand, and he turned to her with an expression of puzzlement.  
  
'Perhaps it's best if I go in first,' she said simply, pulling her arm away, 'It's been a while since you've been in our house, my folks might not know quite what to make of you.'  
  
Harry opened his mouth a little, then snapped it shut, stepping back a little from her. She returned a rather commiserating look before turning to the door and rapping on it several times with her hand… She'd know soon enough what her parents were about. After a few moments the sound of shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door, and commotion besides. Harry didn't realize what was happening until the creaking wooden door flung itself open and he was left standing there looking eye to eye with a graying old man, and a rather familiar old friend by his side. There was a gasp heard, as others promptly began crowing around those at the door, and then there was silence.  
  
To Harry it felt awkward, he didn't quite know exactly what these people were waiting for from him, but was fortunately saved the trouble when one of them, that familiar face, stepped towards him with a slack jaw, mouthing in disbelief.  
  
'It… it can't be…' the man said to him, squinting as though making sure he wasn't an illusion, 'Harry?'  
  
He knew that voice. Ron. Without thinking, Ron thrust forward and enveloped him in a bone crushing hug, just as others behind him began following suit.  
  
'Oh GOD, Harry! Where have you been all this time? Oh we were so worried. All of us! Come in, come in! Don't let us stop you, the family will be just dying to see you after so long.'  
  
'Err… I'd like that… very much.' He spoke between breaths, feeling more startled than anything else, and didn't so much as protest as Ron began bundling him inside with the graying man – Harry recognized him as Arthur – patting him on the back with well wishes and the like. It was all he could've wanted to have the Weasley's accept him once more with open arms. And for a moment Harry forgot who he had become, and remembered days long since past when he was just a boy, and a rag tag family with little to spare took him under their wing without even knowing who he was. In fact, learning his identity had done nothing to etch their loyalty to him, and at that he felt proud. Loyal people were extraordinarily hard to find these days, despite there being "peace" the world over.  
  
Ginny watched sullenly from behind Harry as he was bustled by her exuberant family throughout the house, being shown what had changed and what hadn't, and being reunited with those he hadn't met for some time. She was happy, in truth, that her family had been so welcoming again, but felt a little sad that they hadn't stopped to consider him first. She thought ruefully that if they were to do that, they might've been a little more forlorn about taking him back in, but she knew above everyone else, that Harry needed to be treated with absolute care. Though he showed little emotion at times, Harry was still incredibly sensitive, perhaps more so now then he had been before he left. But one thing felt certain, and that was that Harry's own reaction to her family was something she hadn't truly considered. She wasn't really sure if Harry really wanted to see them again. And that had only gone to show precisely how far her thinking had taken her.  
  
Abruptly she came out of her thoughts as the familiar sight of her mother strolling towards her drew her attention. A stern old woman, Molly Weasley had strands of hair graying in her otherwise red hue, that seemed almost as if they caught the light. Illuminating her. Apart from that though, she was an impressive woman, sometimes with a temper to match as well, but impressive nonetheless. Today her face has loosened slightly to admit a well wishing smile that seemed to warm her to her fingertips. She always had a mother's touch. Hastily she reached her hands out and took Ginny's own, tears of joy threatening to fall down her cheeks.   
  
'Oh Ginny,' she spoke reverently, barely keeping herself from openly weeping, 'You must be so happy!'  
  
Ginny nodded, and gave her mother a firm hug, a smile touching her lips as it finally began to sink in that it was almost like old times again. Harry had been taken into the family once more. Perhaps it was destiny. Fate spun it's webs in mysterious ways.  
  
'You don't know how long I've been dreaming he would come back mum. You've no idea.' She replied, fearing for a moment that she would break down as well, though crying seemed at the furthest regions of her mind at that time. All that mattered was her husband, and however he was feeling at that moment. She looked up from her mother's embrace after a moment and stared across the lop sided rooms towards the rest of the family, who had crowded around the new visitor eagerly, asking him questions about this and that which he looked rather puzzled about at half the time. Though it occurred to her that for someone so surprised by everyone's reaction, the man was doing remarkably well.  
  
'Odd isn't it?' her mother spoke softly, Ginny whipped her head around to face her, 'He hardly seems to have changed. It's almost as though these past years haven't occurred. But he certainly looks the man now doesn't he? Not at all like I remember him, though there's an element of that as well. Is he still the same person we remember Ginny, or has time changed him as it has all of us?'  
  
Ginny looked to him as he sat down on a couch, occupying himself with her brother. Ron looked ecstatic to see him again and she had a feeling that Hermione would seem just as happy when Ron contacted her. Work got in the woman's way far too much these days, Ginny could admit to that. Much like her own life in fact, though she found time for everything in the end.  
  
'I'm… not sure Mum.' She replied rather vaguely, pursing her lips, 'Harry's just… well, Harry, to be honest. He is as far as I can tell, the same person he's always been. But…'  
  
Molly turned to her interestedly.  
  
'But?'  
  
'Well… I don't know for sure Mum, but there's something different about him that I don't remember ever seeing before… A sharpness that wasn't there. Sometimes when I he holds me in his arms, he feels… like steel… Tense, as though expecting someone to lunge at him… oh I don't know, I'm just blabbering. I feel happy he's back, at last Genevieve can see for herself exactly what type of man her father is. Lord knows I'm tired of trying to explain what cannot be spoken. She needs him now more than ever.'  
  
Molly grunted in agreement and turned back to the scene unfolding in the living room. Harry was getting reacquainted with Fred and George who'd just Flooed in. Though they seemed a little more hesitant around him than Ginny had been expecting of her rather insufferable brothers. Most unlike them, they exchanged with him a rather stiff handshake and a very forced smile that didn't settle well with her at all. Even so, Harry's reaction to them looked like a cold stare, as though they'd been talking to each other just a few weeks ago and had been arguing then. But no, that was just her imagination, surely. Ginny could almost feel the uneasiness of Harry reverberating beneath her skin… almost.  
  
'Hmm…' Molly said in a rather mystified voice, 'What was that all about?' and she gestured to Harry as he sat with his back to Fred and George, who gone to a far corner of the room and had begun conversing in hushed tones. 'I haven't seen those two neglect a prank on a newcomer since… oh gees I can't remember. Too long. What are they playing at? What's Harry playing at?'  
  
'I don't know.' Ginny replied honestly, looking to them as they sat at opposite ends of the room, glaring at each other. 'But I'll find out soon enough.'  
  
'I've no doubt you will. I for one would be quite interested as to where he's been hiding for all this time. I can just see the question on the tips of everyone else's tongues.'  
  
Ginny looked startlingly to her mother, who's eyes still rested on Harry, lounging in the opposite room. Following her gaze, she just realized that her mother was right. You didn't need to be a mind reader to see the wetting anticipation that had spread itself over the other's faces. All of them save Fred and George had an air of curiosity about them. One that was dangerous right now, and put a sudden jolt of fear through her as she realized they were all on the verge of asking. Harry was NOT ready yet! Not yet. She was aghast at what he might possibly do if someone pushed him the wrong way, she could still remember the steely glint that had been in his eyes the day he'd returned home. No, if he was going to say anything, then it would be on his terms, unless she asked him first.  
  
'No…' Ginny breathed desperately, and Molly looked to her questionably. 'No!' she spoke again with a little more force, and pushed away from her mother and headed to the lounge room where the others all sat in a semi circle pattern around her husband.  
  
'So tell me Harry…' Arthur Weasley began as she entered the room, 'What's a man like you been doing with himself for all this time? We were getting worried we were. Not truly knowing where you were. Ginny here's been fretting out for skin for as long as I can remember.' he gestured fatherly over to her, and she returned a rather constrained grin, yet kept her eyes solely on Harry, who's gaze had hardened slightly at the question.  
  
'Things that still bother me these days.' He spoke simply, leaving Arthur looking a little befuddled at the answer. 'It's… difficult to explain.'  
  
Ginny noticed a small trickle of sweat beginning to form on his brow then, and he steepled his fingers nervously.  
  
'Oh come on Harry,' Ron chimed in then with a broad smile on his face, whilst standing casually up against the stone fireplace, 'It can't be that hard, really. Tell us.'  
  
'I… I can't…' Harry spoke harshly, his breath beginning to become more constrained than before, his eyes drifting quickly from side to side in a frightened state.  
  
'Oh now really!' Arthur began, his voice airing a little irritation, 'We haven't seen you for over near twenty years Harry, I think it's the least you can do to explain yourself young lad. We've been worried sick about you!'  
  
Harry sat quietly, rocking slightly back and forth. Arthur's wrinkled face didn't look so much as a little annoyed, but there was that sense of irritation about him as he stared at Harry.  
  
'I…' he began, but cut off as he swallowed hard, beads of icy sweat beginning to roll down his cheeks. This was becoming dangerous.  
  
'Err… Dad?' Ginny interjected suddenly, catching the balding man by surprise. 'You know, Harry shouldn't have to explain everything right away. I mean he only got back the other night, he's still tired. Perhaps you should give him a little peace, yeah?'  
  
Arthur's eyes twitched towards his daughter and widened a little. He wasn't all that used to people cutting him off like that, yet his face loosened after a tense moment, and he looked appraisingly towards the young man once more, releasing a calm sigh.  
  
'Yes… yes of course Ginny. Sorry Harry, I didn't mean to be rude. My manners must need some practice. It's just that, you know… so long since we saw you last, we're just a bit curious. That's all.'  
  
Harry seemed visibly relieved at that moment, letting go a deeply held breath. Though he did still look the worse for ware and surprised the family as he stood up suddenly from his seat.  
  
'Excuse me for a moment please, I… have to get some fresh air.'  
  
The family watched the man confusedly as he walked from the room, his skin becoming slightly pale. Arthur blinked questionably, thinking perhaps that he may have said something to offend the man.  
  
'Was it something I said?' Arthur spoke to the others around him, earning little more than a shrug. Ginny couldn't help but eye him worriedly from the corner of her eyes, Harry did little more than worry her these days, ever since he returned, but that couldn't be helped.  
  
Ginny's family neglected to speak much of Harry for the time that passed thereafter, their attention supposedly becoming fixed on their daily routines. Her mother had returned herself to the laborious task of baking, bringing about a fresh wave of heart warming smells that could've enticed even the most discerning of noses. Ginny admitted that she had little talent with cooking and more often than not, heated her meals with magic, whilst her mother produced a cuisine of different dishes that had not only been cooked in the slower muggle fashion, but also tasted as good as they looked. Ron, who had taken to building a mammoth sized castle of playing cards in his room, descended the stairs every so often seeking yet another hidden packet within the kitchen cupboards. It was interesting to note that Ron had begun this project of his sometime last year, and although he never let anyone into his room to see it, he continued to maintain that the castle had not fallen down as of yet. Ginny couldn't imagine just how large it had grown in that time, and it was a startling achievement nonetheless, as he wasn't using magic to support them. Arthur chose to remain in the living room, reclining in a padded chair while his eyes glazed over a buzzing television screen. No one could've believed that a pure blood wizard would've taken so well to a muggle device as alien as this, but with peace and the subsequent influx of technology into wizard markets, Arthur Weasley and television came together as though they had been meant for each other and one was hard pressed these days to see them not in each other's company. A foolish waste of a grown man's time it was, as said by Mrs Weasley in her bad tempered moments, though she opted to hold her peace when Ginny reminded her that she'd been witnessed shedding silent tears over a number of those witless soapies that aired every so often. A foolish waste of time indeed.   
  
At the same time however, she noticed Fred and George whispering hurriedly to each other in an abandoned part of the house. Though it was only a glimpse, they looked up at her from their conversation, a rather affronted look spread over their faces which usually would've appeared rather cheerful. It was… disturbing, to say the least. Those two would normally be at the forefront of some elaborate new scheme, designed to entice customers to their well established chain of novelty stores. Out of all in the family, Fred and George were definitely the most successful, though Molly never truly approved of the way they'd chosen to acquire their riches. She still seemed to believe that minds clever enough to come up with such rubbish, would've been better suited applied somewhere else, though their results however, spoke volumes of their success.  
  
Ginny felt at once that she didn't want to know what the twins were speaking about, but even as she turned from them, their half hushed voices carried over to her things that she didn't want to hear… Harry this and Harry that, and some things that were aimed so cuttingly at her husband, that she clamped her hands over her own mouth as though she'd sinned and spoken it herself. There was clear animosity between the twins and Harry. That rather cold stare they'd exchanged earlier only adding to her suspicions. But why? And why them of all people? At once it became apparent that thoughts of her husband were not confined to the twins alone, but had spread about the household like fire catching on dry grass. Every so often Ginny would turn to see her mother eyeing her from over her shoulder, before hastily turning back to her cooking as though pretending not to see. Her father wasn't at all much better, looking up at her even as the levitating remote next to him flickered between the channels on it's own accord. There was nothing accusing in his stare, quite the contrary, it seemed almost… sympathetic. She realized too that her mother's had been much the same as well, and that fact didn't sit too well with her at all. They knew something… something that she didn't.  
  
Ron however, absorbed as he was in his building, didn't even bother to hide his anxious glances towards her, though there was nothing of that knowingness about him. He smelled faintly of confusion… and worry. She could almost see questions bubbling in his head, and Genevieve's face gave away much the same as her attention turned towards her. There was a definite note of tension in the air, even as silence threatened to overcome the household. Whether it was due to silent whispers in corners, or a hastened glance in her direction, everyone seemed to have their hackles up about her for some reason or another. And as to the cause of it all, she knew there was only one… Harry.  
  
Looking out one of the kitchen windows, Ginny watched Harry's motionless form, sitting idly on a grassy ridge. It was midday now, and light from the sun overhead made everything stand out clearly. By comparison, Harry appeared to contrast rather sharply wearing his flowing black coat, green blades of grass wafting lazily about him in an idle breeze. One thing she remembered clearly about Harry from their Hogwarts days, was that he was never truly forthcoming about his secrets, and hardly surprising considering that his parents were dead and all, not to mention his other dealings with He Who Must Not Be Named. The events that took place with Riddle's diary still sent shiver to her core whenever she thought of it. Therefore, it was understandable that he would have felt the need to protect himself from others.  
  
Unfortunately however, that was a double edged sword, of which she knew all too well about. A person like Harry who was depressed, often found that barring themselves from others reduced whatever pain they felt in their daily lives. It was human nature not to share things with others, according to her at least. She'd often felt the need herself at times when circumstances grew too difficult for her to control, though she'd opened up later. Harry however, seemed to build pain upon itself, bottling his frustrations. Such was the danger she knew of this, as holding everything within one's self did not destroy the pain or the memories that spawned them, but slowly ate away at the inside of them until the depressed person could hardly remember what kind of person they were beforehand. A prospect that was scary to think about, but she feared Harry might be in this boat himself. She prayed he was not, but it seemed all too likely, and that she might be too late to help him. Harry wreaked of pain, as he sat by himself on the grassy ridge top, though she intended to stop it once and for all, no matter what cost it might have.   
  
Harry tilted his head slightly at the sound of sweeping footsteps, making their way towards him through the knee high grass, but kept his gaze set forward, centered on some unknown point on the far horizon. Ginny sat herself next to him, smoothing down her skirts as she tried to follow Harry's aimless gaze. Beyond the ridge laid that all too familiar patchwork of green fields, some turning a burnished shade of yellow with the change of seasons. It was… beautiful, to say the least. And at times Ginny often dreamed of her years at the burrow, before she married Harry… before the war. Slowly she exhaled a deep breath, losing herself for a moment in the caressing breeze that swept her face. It certainly was peaceful here, and she wondered why she'd never thought to sit here before. Perhaps the thought had never occurred to her, or perhaps she merely had no reason.  
  
She sidled a glance to her right, taking in her husband's powerful form. His black coat hung haphazardly over his shoulders, the unusual stitch of it exposing his strong arms, while it's remainder flowed neatly down his body, splaying itself about the ground. His face was beautiful… matured with age. And yet there was a hardness about it. An edge to him that seemed to sway whichever way he turned, like a stone balancing on a knife's blade. His demeanor would be solid granite one minute, and at the impression of a few words, that same demeanor would crack, revealing a softer, more emotional side to him, that only hardened once more soon after. He was temperamental, that was as best as could describe him. Not weak, definitely not weak, but temperamental. Harry exhaled heavily, his breath forming into a frozen mist before his face, closing his eyes in some deep thought.  
  
'I'm sorry I walked out back there.' He spoke softly, his voice rolling off the air. Ginny turned her face to him, her brow furrowed in sympathy. There was sadness in that voice, cold and bitter, like winter's heart. She repressed the urge to shudder from it, instead placing a soft hand over her husband's in a tender embrace.   
  
'Don't be,' she replied soothingly, her own voice like caressing velvet, 'My family has thought a lot of you these past years, you cannot blame them for being curious, just as they cannot blame you for not being here where you belong.'  
  
Harry's hand firmed upon her own ever so slightly, his brow creasing a little.  
  
'Where I belong…' he mouthed quietly, looking up once more to the serene fields stretched out before him. 'It was a shock to me Ginny, it's been too long since I've been around so many other people. People who are… happy, with their lot in life. Not like me. I've been miserable for many years, loathing each and every day that I spent abroad. I'm not used to the quiet life anymore.'  
  
Ginny quirked a small smile at that, though she was certain Harry didn't notice. Her life had hardly been quiet, but it had been lonely. He had taken up much of her thoughts in the past years, it felt almost unreal to have him sitting there beside her.  
  
'You're home now Harry, that's all that matters. I'm sorry to say, but you'll have to get used to the quiet life sooner or later. You have a family that loves you. A family that NEEDS you. And it hurts me to see how cruelly life has turned on my husband. I know you have suffered…'  
  
She drew back slightly as Harry's face twitched a little, his grip on her hand tightening by increments as he stared half heartedly across the green pastures. His expression began to harden once more. Ginny couldn't describe how sour a taste it put into her mouth to see him so hurt. So hardened. Part of her wanted to strangle the man for the way he was acting, another wanted so badly for him to hold her weeping, until day became night. Either one she would accept, if it would only release him from his emotional prison.  
  
'Do you really?' he spoke with a touch of bitterness in his voice, and as though just realizing, released the strain he was placing on her hand, cupping his other over it as he turned his eyes towards her. Strange how they had once been so green, it was now mournful. Gray orbs seemed to penetrate her as she sat, pursing her lips. Yet his sadness ran through her even deeper than those cutting eyes of his that had seen too much, and she could no longer bare it anymore.  
  
'I believe you have Harry.' She said in a matter of fact tone, taking him aback slightly, perhaps a little firmer than she'd intended, 'By your word to me I believe you. But you have not told me how. And I worry each day at what may be tearing you apart from the inside, even more than I did when you were gone. It does not hurt you alone Harry, you must understand that. Others feel sorrow being around you, sadness flows in your veins. You must tell me Harry…' he jerked his head away her, pointing his stare in the opposite direction, yet Ginny went on nonetheless, 'I cannot hope to help you if I do not know how. Trust me Harry, I can feel your hurt. Let me loosen you burden.'  
  
Harry kept his gaze away, staring off into the far distance away from her, his grip on her hand tensing once more. A stone balancing on a steel blade.  
  
'I… I can't.' he spoke shuddering, that familiar sweat beginning to form upon his brow again. 'It's too hard to speak of, too horrible. I can't subject you to that, you don't deserve to wallow in my pain.'  
  
Ginny cast her eyes down, her sympathy being thrown back at her so heartlessly. But she remembered that this was precisely what his life had done to him. He was on the edge, and it occurred to her that he may never be ready to speak of it. She had to end this.  
  
'Years have I waited…' she began slowly, raising her eyes, 'Praying that one day you would return to me. Praying that perhaps the countless times I fallen asleep in tears, you would come back to sweep me up in your arms, to breathe life into me again, where I thought all had been lost… And when that day came, my husband returned a broken man. Weakened and exhausted by whatever hardships he'd endured, his own lust for life extinguished. I could see it in your eyes the moment you first looked at me. My mother noticed it… my father and brothers noticed it… even your daughter.'  
  
Harry's grip eased a little, his body loosening. Ginny went on.  
  
'I know it must be hard for you Harry, and I don't pretend to know anything I don't, but if you there is a reason you must tell of your experiences, than is your daughter not sufficient. She's grown up hearing of you the things that my family and I have said. She's wanted ever so badly to see you, and know how it is she's come to fit into our family. I've always said that Genevieve is the greater part of you, not I, and it hurts to know that where there was expectancy in her eyes, there now lies doubt. You've come back changed Harry, more so than I could ever have imagined. But you must let me help you… you cannot help your daughter if you cannot help yourself.'  
  
Harry sat still, his body unmoving, until at last he turned once more to face her, those gray eyes looking more now like pools of despair, and he gave a final, resigned nod.   
  
'Yes…' he said slowly, a small tear in his cheek suddenly shattering into the air, 'You're right Ginny. I've acted the fool for far too long. I guess, somehow I've always known it, you're usually right about these kinds of things… But where to start, that's the problem. I've seen so much.'  
  
'The day you left?' Ginny prompted softly, Harry nodded once more.  
  
'Yes… yes, the day I left… My first memory of this is of Dumbledore,' he grimaced slightly at the wizard's name, 'It was at the end of the war you see… With the peace agreement signed and the world beginning to come back to order, there was not much left for a person like me to do. Albus had it pushed through that I didn't have to live with my Aunt and Uncle any longer, and contrary to my belief that I may wish to live with you, he kept me at Hogwarts, even as the stones were being laid down in it's repair.  
  
'I thought, that maybe once I came of age, he would allow me to leave, yet he did not, keeping a tight hold upon me. It was unfair, and I was being held as a prisoner in a place I once called my only true home… But Dumbledore you see, was an observant wizard, as he remains to this day, and he saw within me, magic the likes of which you could not hope to dream of in your lifetime. Magic of such power, that it's flowing through the veins is like life itself, that you feel powerless without it. It's called Essence Ginny. And it is a skill lost many thousands of years ago that few every so often acquire…'  
  
Harry raised a sole finger, pointing into the air. A small flame suddenly lit up upon it, before it rose into the air and began contorting into various shapes, changing colour as it went, before it died out just as abruptly, disappearing into the air. Wandless magic!  
  
'I was told I was a unique type of wizard, and that such power should be controlled immediately before I was consumed by it. So he kept me there in that blasted castle, everyday undergoing hundreds of different lessons and exercises designed to help me better understand my powers. I had no choice of course, and I dared not use magic against Dumbledore, I knew far too little for my own good, so I stayed there and learned. It proved to my benefit in a manner of speaking, his lessons did strengthen me, and I now have a far better understanding of the magic that swirls about inside my veins. But I had been foolish from the outset at allowing Dumbledore to lead me by my nose, as now he had a means of using me for his own ends.  
  
'When the time came that he was satisfied of my progress, I was stronger than he was by far. At merely the slightest gesture I could've torn him apart, but my loyalty spoke otherwise, and I owed him some for helping me achieve the level of magic that I did… Therefore, it came as no great surprise when he announced to me one morning that he intended to put my skills to work in a manner that would benefit the world. He spoke volumes of Voldemort's fury, preaching to me of how he had thus far evaded capture and was a danger to all. Naturally I drank in his every word. Voldemort was every bit the terror that Albus had made him out to be, yet as he put it, I was to be his end. A means to it at least.  
  
'Albus gave me a choice… I could choose to help him and the world, by tracking the dark lord down step by step. None had thus far proved able to follow him, as he had gained similar abilities to my own. Or, I could live away from the mainstream of life and try vainly to forget Voldemort's existence in this world… Of course, I was not as naïve as I make myself out to be, he would never forget me so long as he lived, so I chose Albus's first choice. Had I refused I think he would've begged me to reconsider, it was not really a choice as such, but I made the decision anyway. And so it began.  
  
'Life for me changed from the everyday normal, into a hardened routine. I trained temporarily at the Auror Academy in methods of covert operations, before I headed out in any number of disguises ranging from a Quidditch star, to an old man hobbling on his walking stick. All designed not to attract attention from the wrong people, and there were many of those of whom I had a distinct interest in. Voldemort, as it turned out, moved quickly from place to place. Since the end of the war, his activity level had dropped staggeringly, those in the order had trouble keeping a solid fix on him anywhere. But I saw patterns arrange themselves for every time he suddenly leaped from one country to another in a single bound. And that was of his followers, the Deatheaters. During the conflict at Hogwarts, many of those who had been imprisoned by the order had escaped and scattered themselves world wide, escaping attention from officials. It was all covered up of course, the last thing anyone wanted was a panic on their hands.  
  
'But where a smoky trail began, I followed it, turning me into a sort of blood hound for the order. And a most dangerous one at that. My travels took me across the globe in criss-crossing patterns. I could be in Europe one week or in America another, always searching for elusive signs of Voldemort or his followers. Many of which, I found in short order. Those of whom had made contact with the dark lord after the war had dispersed themselves upon his orders, all bent on completing some task he'd set them. And for everyone I found, I laid down the terms to them. They were shocked that I was so open with them, and that I had managed to find them at all when the world supposedly knew nothing of them. But those with any sense at all at seeing my powers, agreed to come quietly, and they were sent to Dumbledore in due course, no doubt to suffer a lesser penalty for their submission.  
  
'But there were an equal number of fanatics as well, all believing to their bones that Voldemort was some kind of god reincarnated, and they resisted as the believed they were meant to do… I killed every one of them who defied me, bringing about as much pain in their skins as I could muster, knowing that they followed the creature that had killed my parents, not to mention hundreds of others besides. And for fifteen years I pursued that coarse, a path of blood and hatred, spanning continents that seemed it would never end. Many of those I recovered were amongst Voldemort's inner circle, those of whom I recognized from previous encounters. For many years the killing continued without any rebuke, but the loss of so many that were close to him saw his eyes swivel upon me eventually. He must've realized that his followers were disappearing one by one, and he somehow discovered that it was me who was the cause behind it.  
  
'No matter how much I tried to hide myself, every trail that I followed up from there on went disturbingly cold. I found no death eaters for an entire year at one stage… but what I did find, was worse. FAR WORSE! There was a child, at every place I traveled to. Every place, I had thought to go to try and find the dark lord or his followers. A child. Boys and girls, the gender varied each time, yet their ages remained the same. Eleven give or take a month or two. Each one was eleven years old, and each one tainted by the dark lord. They were not evil… not in any way entwined with the dark lord for some reason or another. They were innocent… every last one of them. Stolen… kidnapped from families that loved them dearly. And every last one tainted with dark magic.  
  
'Upon seeing me, their bodies would wretch, contort and spasm where they stood. They would fall to the ground screaming, until wounds would suddenly break open in their skin where there once was none. Blood… rivers of it still haunt my imagination, at the sight of those children, all staring up at me pleading for help. Pleading for salvation… Of course I tried to help, I performed magic on their wounds to make them heal, yet there was something in that taint, something that would tear open those wounds anew only to burn fiercer than before. It appeared they were allergic to Essence. Every child I encountered was, and there wasn't a thing I could do for them… save one.'  
  
Ginny clamped her hands over her mouth as stark realization hit her. Staring into his cold, gray eyes only seemed to confirm it.  
  
'You didn't… you didn't really?!' but he nodded all the same, small tears flowing down his cheeks once more.  
  
'Yes Ginny… I did. I could not simply stand by and watch those children die slow and painful deaths. I would not let them choke to death on their own blood whilst I stood idly by. I helped each one, by ending their lives. Knowing they were allergic to Essence, I performed the deed with my bare hands. A snap of their neck was the usual method, and for every time I did it, their eyes would stare up at me. Their life lost, yet still asking "Why?". That occurred in the last five years of my service to Albus Dumbledore! An entire life… WASTED, and more harm has come of it than good, I have killed more in my time than in Voldemort's reigns combined. And over two thirds of those were children. Innocent children with families that loved them, that deserved no greater part than to sit on the sidelines. Yet they were brought into it anyway, against their will, and worse still, they died by my hands. How many did, I don't know… I've lost count. But every time I look upon my own daughter's face, I see them. Every face that stared to me in death, all asking "Why?".  
  
'Twenty years of bloodshed has finally come to end, and my service to Dumbledore is over. Yet the battle has not yet begun and I have served only to incense the Dark Lord more with my futile attempts to track him down and bring him to justice. Everything I have done has been for nothing Ginny… Everything…'   
  
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Hi there again. It's another late night for me typing furiously away. All to the greater good of keeping you people happy. I know this chapter is late again. Yes, I know it happens all too often, but this time I had writer's block, so it's a good enough excuse. I hope you people find this chapter worth while since it took so long to write, and dare I say it puts a very dark light onto Harry Potter. It appears his past is more terrible than we may have perceived. At any rate the plot now thickens and if you had been somewhat confused as to the earlier chapters, then this may very well clear some of that up for you. Anyway, I hope you like it, Cya!  
  
Richard Flynn. 


	6. Dark Powers

Chapter 6 – Dark Powers  
  
Dumbledore stood silently at the peak of Hogwarts' highest spire, his heavily embroidered robes rippling in the gusts of cool air that swept along the castle's rooftops this high up. Despite the castle being near totally rebuilt at the end of the war, it still hadn't lost any of it's previous grandeur… or height for that matter. Standing impressively over the surrounding countryside, Albus could see far into the distant lands that bordered Scotland's writ. The wizard Scotland that was. The muggle border stretched many leagues further into the south, where even the sharpest of eyes quickly lost focus. But thoughts of national borders didn't perturb the old wizard a great deal, he felt that he was getting on in his age too quickly to worry of them. Just so long as it didn't interfere with his own agenda, it was of no consequence at all.  
  
Guiding his eyes over the school grounds, he took in the familiar sight of the Quidditch pitch, it's multiple burnished hoops shining in the light. The finely cut green grass of the school's extensive fields absorbing the warmth of the morning sun. And the feel of a rippling breeze upon his skin induced relaxation within him that he'd often been hard pressed to attain in the past. Put simply, he felt at peace. Looking up, he barely noticed the lack of Lev and Shaa-Wings flitting quickly across the sky. Every so often one would dart through the clouds, it's destination one of the many extensive cities built beyond the horizon. Though their presence wasn't as noticed as they had once been, it was almost the norm to see their hovering forms as numerous as sheep, perhaps even more so. Yet this morning held it's peace, the air stirring only faintly about him. Most air traffic never flew over Hogwarts so early, people just didn't like getting up at this time. And that reminded him…  
  
Quickly he dipped his right hand into one of his many robe pockets and withdrew a long, golden chain. It's many links rattled together as he lifted it into the air, a large round pendent that was attached to it's end glinting in the light, it's finely worked surface shining in places as he lowered it into his other outstretched hand. Looking down upon it, he ran his finger deftly over it's outside edge, searching… searching… there was a sudden click, and the sound of moving gears, before the device opened itself, it's two halves parting to reveal a small ticking clock within, four identical hands turning in opposite directions over a myriad of oddly shaped runes and numbers. No doubt that recording time was amongst the least of it's functions, and he greatly enjoyed owning the device for reasons other than that. It was a gift from Garcia, the Viridian King himself, who currently presided over the planet as a single throne, ruling from London, the birthplace of the unified Wizard/ Muggle empire. He felt somewhat honored by holding it at times. Not only for the respect he held for the Viridian and the simpler age that it reminded him of, but also for the principle itself. He'd never been afforded a gift such as this, and certainly never one from a king. The initials G.R. laid engraved on the back, the year 0001 NF (New Future) inscribed below it in lithely flowing vines that wrapped gracefully about the letters above. It would have been an ornament to any save the socially elite, the prestige one felt at owning such a piece far outweighed any sack of galleons, or vault for that matter. Yet despite this he looked upon it reverently for only a moment, before a twist of his wrist saw the trinket close up as quickly as it had opened, and bury itself once more into his deep, dark pockets… 7.30 AM.  
  
'I wasn't expecting to see you here this early,' called a gruff voice from behind, followed by approaching footsteps. Dumbledore turned his head slightly to the right, taking in the raggedly cloaked form of Remus Lupin, who stood looking as pale and colorless as ever. Peering out over the school grounds once more, Dumbledore asked in a rather withdrawn voice;  
  
'Three days left until the next… am I correct?'  
  
Lupin's eyes sidled towards him slowly, his dull orbs unhurried in focusing right, yet amidst his weariness, his uncommitted stare seemed to confirm it. Shrugging slightly, he gave a lazy nod, his ragged cloak shaking off a layer of pent up dust.   
  
'The full moon never was a time of happiness for me…' he began, drawing in a haggard breath, 'but waiting in anticipation of one is worse. I hate it…'  
  
Dumbledore nodded gravely, more so to himself than the man standing before him, yet Lupin didn't seem to notice much. Or care for that matter. The man had taken to searching across the empty skies, his gaze occasionally spotting a lone Shaa-Wing carrying passengers across the English Channel to the lands beyond. It was quieter than he'd been expecting, most unusual. Breaking the silence, Remus coughed throatily, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. Dumbledore gave him a rather sympathetic look, not quite knowing how hard it must be to be a Werewolf. The prospect felt daunting to him, and it was indeed quite a shame that Remus was bitten. Something that seemed an age ago… come to think of it, it was.  
  
Since Grindelwald's demise all those years ago, the thinking of the world's people changed considerably, to the effect that long standing suspicions between muggles and wizards were thoroughly erased. It never was a smooth transition, quite the opposite in fact, but peace ensued nonetheless, and a new golden age was heralded. It struck Albus as something of a miracle that events had pushed themselves this far, and to the benefit it incurred, well, no one could've foreseen that! He supposed afterall, it was probably destined to happen. He thoroughly doubted that Wizards were capable of keeping the Muggles oblivious forever, and though a war was required for both sides to finally seek peace, the end justified the means nonetheless.   
  
Dumbledore conjured up a handkerchief for the spluttering man, who reached for it gratefully, though he showed no signs of stopping his coughs. Poor man.  
  
'You really think he'll come?' Lupin spoke abruptly between splutters, slowing his coughs down to a shallow wheeze, 'After all this time, do you seriously believe that he will come to you?'  
  
Dumbledore grimaced slightly, wringing his hands as the wind about him picked up a little, making his robes flutter quickly in the breeze.  
  
'We must believe that he will old friend,' he answered to the tired looking man, before stroking his beard in contemplation, 'I've placed him in a dilemma of sorts that he cannot readily escape. He wants to be here, apart from the benefits he will have teaching my students… besides, I fear he knows I have one of the books at my disposal… I do hope you remember our arrangement Remus. Consequences could be dire if you do not.'  
  
At that Lupin lowered the handkerchief, frowning slightly at the old man who stared idly forward, not meeting his gaze. For an aged wizard, Albus sure knew how to make simple words sound as cold as steel.  
  
'I remember well Professor, my body may be broken but my wits are still as sharp as they've always been…'  
  
Albus grinned satisfyingly.  
  
'Good.'  
  
'But…' and Albus turned to him then, eyeing him askance, 'What of this… Essence? I've heard you speak of it on several occasions. What has Harry got to do with this?'  
  
Dumbledore pursed his lips slightly, but apart from that he gave no other sign that he was in anyway taken aback by the question. But he did seem to take on a more serious tone about his voice then, something Lupin knew only occurred when the situation called for a serious person.  
  
'Tell me Remus,' he began, flexing his fingers a little, 'Are you familiar with Narcissus?'  
  
Lupin scratched his head confusedly. He'd never heard of this Narcissus before now, so he gave an idle shrug. Dumbledore seemed hardly surprised.  
  
'I thought not. Few people know anything of it, and those who do know little if any of that is true… Narcissus is a city Remus. Ancient most definitely, it's days saw Hogwarts built upon it's ruins. It's people are all but dead now, but their legacy was not. Within their veins they practiced an age old type of magic known as Essence. Pure… and powerful, it could be wielded without the use of a wand, were anything quite as primitive available in those days. Sadly, it became lost to us. No one knows how, or exactly when, but the people of Narcissus were completely destroyed, and the ability to wield Essence along with it.'  
  
And he gave off a dismissive gesture with his free hand, brushing against the wind.  
  
'Pity… Essence had a large hand in Hogwarts original construction. It is indeed a shame the ability died out. However, reason I speak of it to you is because the skill has not retired to the grave just yet. No… it has jumped every few generations, hiding in the bloodline of successive families. Few have developed it to any real strength, but now, it is Harry's turn. He has acquired Essence in his blood.'  
  
Lupin cast his eyes downwards, thinking about what the headmaster had just said.  
  
'So it's true then?' he began, drawing the old man's attention suddenly, 'He's a Prodigen isn't he?'  
  
Dumbledore nodded, turning to scan the skies once more. Traffic had picked up a little it seemed. But the haggard wizard went on.  
  
'Has he not sired children? He could have passed the trait on! What would this mean for wizardkind?'  
  
At that Dumbledore shook his head, taking the man slightly by surprise.  
  
'No Remus. There hasn't been a single occasion when the ability to cast Essence has been genetically transmitted to a child. Suffice to say there is litter to suggest Harry may have done so with his daughter. I certainly pray that she has not in the worst case scenario, Essence is a dangerous magic if left unchecked. For her sake I am willing to dismiss the possibility.'  
  
Remus grunted incoherently, his mouth twitching at it's sides. Dangerous? Hell… how dangerous.  
  
'But Professor, what if the worst case scenario did happen? Would we just stand by and watch?'  
  
'NO!' Albus spoke harshly, cutting Remus off, who swallowed his words, 'No… young Genevieve is a student to be at this school in a few days time. Her presence here can be monitored by you if you feel it necessary. Our main concern is for Harry…' he checked his stylized watch again, 'If he ever decides to show up that is. You would find that his uncanny knack for performing magic without a wand can be rather, uncomfortable, to deal with. Which makes me wonder whether or not he's acquired a new wand. I'm sure his students will be horrified if they learn he's capable of a great many arcane things. And I'm sure we will be dealt with soon enough if it gets out. That's why we must guide him ourselves, and why I must try and cool his heels before he settles down to a teaching career.'  
  
'Does he hate you Professor? If he is what you say, you may be unable to control him. What will you do if he does? If he decides he must teach you a permanent lesson?'  
  
At that Albus laughed aloud, that his voice echoed through the air to the lower levels of Hogwarts.  
  
'A permanent lesson you say? Perhaps he will. If that is the case he may very well cool his heels after the deed. He saves himself and saves my students. I win. Someone else will be likely to replace me, and to McGonagall I have left it. I win again. And I will end a rather colorful life, lord knows I've spent long enough on this earth than is necessary. I still win… For Harry there is nothing but a road of power, and the dark lord still seeks him. Hogwarts is still the most safest place there is, not just for him but for his daughter as well. Personally, I would be glad if he kills me, so long as he is satisfied by it. But if I know Harry, he won't be able to bring himself to it. He has a soft spot for forgiveness that I'm aware of, no need to concern myself just yet.'  
  
'Even so, I'd be careful around him all the same. I don't know if I can trust someone who can perform wandless magic. Not even if he's a thousand miles away. But I'll do my best to make sure he does not lose his temper. A promise is a promise.'  
  
Dumbledore nodded as though it were his plan all along, which, come to think of it, it kinda was.  
  
'I'm glad to here it old friend. I value your support.'  
  
'And what of the book you keep?'  
  
'Hmm… I'm sure he can feel it's pull, tugging at him even now. As I said before Remus, he will come to me.' He looked up, his eyes focusing on a lone Shaa-Wing descending through the clouds. 'And not before time too if I must say so myself.'  
  
Dumbledore and Remus took a couple of quick steps backwards, as the Shaa-Wing's giant mechanical form rotated flaps about to catch the breeze, several ventral thrusters appearing from beneath which blasted super heated columns of air towards the ground, slowing it's descent. Looking upon the contraption as it lowered slowly, Remus could see it's giant corsair type wings casting long shadows over the spire's top as metal made contact with stone, the cushioned landing gear that had folded out of lower compartments suddenly turning into concertina like shapes as they touched the ground. The engines gradually dithered and came to a slow stop.  
  
'Remember Remus,' Dumbledore whispered into the man's ear, 'No slip ups. I'd like you on your best behaviour, or you might live to see a castle ravaged by magic.'  
  
Lupin gulped audibly as a side door on the giant Shaa-Wing slid noisily open, a lone figure, clad in black up to his fingertips, striding out to meet them, his cloak covering his face.  
  
'Harry! It's been too long.' Dumbledore called out more jovially than Remus was sure he had been, extending his arms in a welcoming gesture. Reluctantly, Harry pulled his hood away from his face, revealing a darkly matured man in his mid thirties. Remus could only stare at how hardened his face looked, and how gray his eyes had become. What had happened to him?  
  
Harry sidled a glance to Remus, though his eyes slid over him as though he did not exist. Yet the coldness of him was there, spread upon his face. He looked instead to Dumbledore, who had lost a little of his swagger as Harry stepped towards him, offering his hand to shake. Dumbledore took it hesitantly, but was held where he stood by Harry's steely gaze. Somehow, the newcomer managed to dredge up a kind of smile, his teeth bared slightly in what he thought was supposed to be taken for a grin, yet there no warmth in it at all. Absolutely none.  
  
'Yes,' Harry replied, his voice sounding like hardened steel, 'You're right, it has been FAR too long…'

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A golden haired man walked solemnly through long abandoned corridors, his black cloak making odd swishing noises as his feet kicked up clouds of undisturbed dust beneath him. Darkness gripped the atmosphere, and it was often difficult to see more than a few feet in front of him, though he kept his course nonetheless, it was not the first time he'd wandered this corridor alone. The air held about it a rather dubious smell, much like that which is sealed in a cupboard and not left to see the light of day. Yet dry as it was, it reeked heavily of magic. Powerful magic at that, and it was all the blonde man could do not to be lulled in ecstasy, the smell washed over him so. However, it was not for this reason alone that he followed the dark lord. He had reasons of his own besides, and unwittingly, he ran his fingers across the elegantly worked snakes that entwined themselves together to fasten his cloak at the neckline… Yes he thought, reasons of his own.  
  
Shooting a troubled glance to his left, his eyes meandered beyond the dirt encrusted glass that made windows to the outside world, a view that overlooked the worst of this blasted land's scenery. Though nothing could be discerned this night, the hard lines that would normally form into jagged, black hills on the clearest of days, now stood shrouded in a thick fog of drenching rain that soaked the barren countryside for miles. There was little of any value worth seeing in this land anyway, the loss of the view was hardly of consequence, and it compared starkly with the harsh thrashing that the rain had against the elderly panes of glass before him. Every so often a thunderous crack would sound, and the way ahead would prematurely illuminate itself to a flash of silver lightening… It was then he saw a lone figure, hovering menacingly towards him in the gloomy half light of the corridor. Abruptly his breath froze in his chest, the air about him seeming to caress his face like slithers of ice, and he almost drew his wand. Only hardened self mettle prevented him from performing an act against one of the dark lord's personal guard that would undoubtedly have led to his demise, so he stayed his hand, if somewhat reluctantly.   
  
With a whispy rag for a cloak thrown feverishly over it's head, the Dementor approached him near silently, save for it's haggard, rasping breath that seemed to chill him further to the bone for every inch it flew closer. Despite his allegiance to the shadow, his fear still seemed to freeze in the pit of his stomach whenever a Dementor drew near. There was no escaping this reaction he felt, nor the animosity towards the creature he had at that moment, but courtesies had to be observed, regardless of the hatred he held of them… Hastily he took a long step backwards and bowed his head deeply in respect for the dark servant, who faced him casually, staring at him with that terrible eyeless glare, before it crooked a gnarled finger in his direction, gesturing him to rise from his seemingly groveling position. Such ancient forms of respect to the dark servants had been forgotten many a century past, but had been revived not too long ago, when the dark lord brought the Dementors into his glorious fold.   
  
Hastily the man obeyed, straightening himself quickly as though his life depended on it. His serpent shaped cloak pins glimmered suddenly as another silver bolt of lighting illuminated the room, making the Dementor's sinister form all the more apparent… Raising it's twisted hand to him once more, it beckoned for him to follow, turning abruptly before gliding into seemingly thin air, leaving him with his jaw dropping as he managed to gather himself and pursue the creature's wake along the dank corridors. One could admire his fealty, to suffer such indignity to the foulest of beings, yet he had witnessed much in his service to the great dark lord, and there would be much yet that he was willing to do, if only to please his lordship to the fullest extent.  
  
As his feet made ominous echoing noises on the hard, stone floor, his eyes wandered left and right to the numerous ornate wall hangings that decorated this level of the building, if in a rather disturbing manner. Paintings with gilded frames hung imperiously over those who wished to walk the corridors, their inhabitants, the greatest of dark wizards and witches from the past age, stared disdainfully upon him as he passed, exchanging with him sneering glances at every turn. Below their portraits, solid gold placards lavishly detailed their names and years of their reign, many dating back to the rumored great casting, when muggles and wizards became separate species. If such an event could've occurred, it would explain a lot, yet it didn't seem prudent to him that wizard kind could be anything but that, and the idea that muggles were not only accepted in society, but capable of their own magic… filthy!  
  
Studying the names as he passed, he mentally noted each in his head, none giving him so much as the slightest hint of recognition… Salazar Slytherin, born 998, died 1136. Founder of house Slytherin at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. First of a proud line of parsel mouths, and leader of the serpent legions for well over eighty years. Quite a feat… Romanda Escarran, born 1256, died 1308. A witch who had plunged medieval Europe into a thirty eight year period of war and unrest, only ended when the powerful mage Marandill killed her as she slept… Thaodred Mokar, born 1422, died 1496. The first wizard to speak the killing curse, bringing about a wave of terror not seen since the likes of his predecessor, Romanda Escarran. Executed by Aurors with his own incantation. A terrible waste…   
  
Slowly as his feet dragged across the cold stone tiles of the floor, he read each placard and the description afforded to the portrait's owner, each a name of distinction and honor, worthy of remembrance in these halls. His eyes continued to wander…  
  
Hareen Tai'darra, born 1689, died 1802. A dark witch who invented the time turner. Accused at her trial for bending the time flow to her will, allowing for acts of terrible cruelty for a number of years as yet impossible to determine. Dead by the headman's axe… Yashamitsu Ikata, born 1709, died 1898. Japanese wizard who experimented with mind altering salves in the early seventeenth century. Brought an entire nation's population to it's knees through means of mass drugging and devious potions. Died by own hand on the verge of capture… a great and honorable man… Marcellus Vandahar, born 1901, died 1912. Juvenile wizard with extra-ordinary psychic powers. Killed seven students from opposing houses before melting many of Hogwarts critical foundations. Overcome and killed by twenty Aurors before the secrets of his abilities could be revealed…  
  
Each witch or wizard's name imprinted itself on the man's brain, his mind reeling in awe at the achievements of each for however many years their lives stretched. He wondered at why he had never stopped briefly to read these placards before. Perhaps matters had always been far to pressing for him to spare the time, or perhaps he just never noticed their existence here due to the failing light. He'd never walked this corridor in daylight so far as he could remember. Though whatever reason would choose to reveal itself, all thought receded from his head as he came to the final portrait…  
  
Saranaak Grindelwald, born ?, died ? . Leader of the serpent legions 1939 to 1945. Bio-engineer of the dark species known as "Moridian Dementar" (Dementors). Hybrid wizard of unknown origin. Age impossible to determine. No death as yet recorded…  
  
That last sent a shiver through his spine, and he felt absolutely certain no Dementor was near enough to cause it, though one might very well give him the Dementor's kiss at merely looking at their creator's portrait, no matter how full of fear he was. Dementor's were an easily agitated lot at the best of times… Staring slowly up at the canvas portrait, he looked at the imposing figure that leered threateningly down upon him. Wearing a garment of seemingly ancient design, his head was shrouded in darkness by a sinister hood, two glowing red eyes staring back at him from beneath it that almost seemed to bore into his head, despite it merely being a portrait. Nothing could be discerned from the image other than it had links to very ancient magic, and radiated evil. He, personally had not felt such a way since the last time he had stood alone in the dark lord's presence, every nerve in his body twitching as his master probed him with magic from every angle, inflicting intense pain whenever he was displeased. It was enough to chill anyone to the bone, but it was a punishment he rarely received, as he knew better than most that he was the dark lord's most loyal servant. Yes! The MOST loyal.   
  
Painfully pulling his eyes from Grindelwald's portrait, the man pushed on through the mounting layers of undisturbed dust that covered the floor. Looking to the end of the long corridor, he saw his destination… a large wooden door carved into the shapes of thrashing serpents, upon it, brass knockers molded into gargoyle like monstrosities. His master's taste in design hadn't faltered in inch in his many years of service. Nearby, the Dementor he'd met before floated sinuously nearby, it's breath rattling mind numbingly as it extended it's emaciated hand in gesture to the room beyond the door. The sound of cracking bones became known to him as it's fingers flexed into the unnatural position. At any rate, he wanted to be rid of the thing's presence immediately.  
  
'The master awaits…' it spoke in a chilling tone, and the blonde man was taken slightly aback at the coldness of it. He'd never before heard of a Dementor speaking, so this came as much of a shock. Yet whatever surprise may have been evident on his face, it quickly disappeared as he resumed a serene hold upon his features, and bowed respectfully to it once more in accordance with tradition. The Dementor failed to acknowledge it, dismissing his respect before floating back down the dark hallway, slipping in and out of shadows as it went, searching for unwary human prey. Though they were the private hand of the dark lord, many death eaters had disappeared in their presence, or shown up dead for no apparent reason except that they were not breathing. He'd always had his suspicions, but to express disagreement to the dark lord was heresy, and mad besides.  
  
Breathing deeply, he gathered up what courage and pride he had, smoothing down his black, serpent pinned cloak with his hands. It always was wise to appear at your best before the dark lord, impressions did well for speaking to him, not to mention the fact it raised your rank amongst other, more shabbily clothed Deatheaters by a considerable margin. Though it was his master that concerned him most. To be in his favor was to be treated closer than a son… but to be on the receiving end of his temper was another matter entirely. Things had changed since the dark lord began operating more secretly. His powers had grown tenfold. Now, not even death could save you from his wrath. Insane to comprehend, yet true in every respect. He would be the scourge of his enemies yet, and he knew it.  
  
Extending his hands, he took one final breath before he gently pushed open the wooden door, it's multiple carved serpents hissing at him. The door receded from his touch as though it were weightless, opening from such little effort, and revealing to him a large, oval shaped room that took in a man's vision whole. And centered in the middle of the far wall, stood an intricately worked throne on a metal dais… The great dark lord himself sat leisurely on that throne, one of which he was certain, was destined to reside in London very soon from now.  
  
With his head lowered in submission, he entered the room for a few steps, before dropping suddenly to a bended knee, his right fist pounding his chest in a formal salute. He dared not speak unless asked. The dark lord knew of your presence even when you believed he did not, more had changed about his master's senses since his sudden burst of power, and if necessary, he was willing to wait on bended knee for days at a time, or at least until his strength gave way, whichever came first. The dark lord sat motionless on his worked metal throne, his breath a wheeze that gave the false impression of weakness. Truth was he was far from that, and anyone who thought differently made a terrible mistake in their judgment. With embroidered hood covering his face, nothing could be seen of his expression from the stolen glances the blonde man gave whilst bowing low, eager to serve his master.  
  
'Rise Luscious,' Voldemort spoke suddenly, his voice as cold as the hammered steel used to make his throne, it almost seemed to suck the life out of the air about him, 'Your presence bodes well for me I hope Malfoy. I must admit your son was a fool to get himself killed so… easily. Clearly he is not of that same mettle as his father. Am I correct old friend?'  
  
'Yes my lord!' Luscious spoke reverently, never minding that his master had spoken of his son in such a demeaning way. But if the dark lord felt need to do so, then by all accounts his son deserved everything he got… and more. 'He was indeed a fool to be killed. I had expected better from my blood, perhaps my family is becoming weak my lord.'  
  
Voldemort chuckled at that last statement, though it sounded even colder than his normal voice. Getting slowly to his feet, he pushed himself up from his steel throne, and made his way across the dais to his kneeling servant, who still held his head humbly low.  
  
'Your son WAS weak Luscious. That is evident… though you are not. Your marriage to this… Narcissa woman is the most likely cause, I hear she is from a very weak family indeed. However, Draco's failure will not be your failure I trust. You have served me faithfully for many years now, sometimes at great cost to yourself and your family.' That last sounded scornful at best, 'And I believe you shall serve me well still. That is of course, what you have to report to me. Speak!'  
  
Luscious mentally prepared himself. This was the reason he had come. On his own volition he had carried out a mission for the benefit of the dark lord. It was not permitted, or known about as far as he could tell, and much had been risked by undertaking it. The outcome however, he hoped would be pleasing to no end. He lived to serve.  
  
'My lord,' he began, butterflies bouncing in his stomach, 'I had taken the liberty of acquiring for you an item you may find most useful. It could have come at great cost had my plans come to nothing, but they bare fruit yet my lord. Behold…' and he stretched out his hand, a rectangular shape shimmering suddenly in his palm before solidifying into a large, ornately bound book with corners of well worked silver shaped into intertwining vines.  
  
Voldemort stood silently, looking over the ancient volume, it's emerald plaque shining in the half light of the oval room. Luscious feared for a moment he'd made a grave error in his judgment in taking this, until his fears were suddenly allayed as the dark lord stretched out long, clawed hands, which trembled over the book's anciently bound cover. Trembled! Letting fly a rasping breath Luscious could feel his master's unearthly eyes upon him, measuring his loyalty, and his hands wrapped over the book.  
  
'Vinareer o' Liege…' he spoke softly, though his master's words were clearly understandable. 'I have but one of these books Luscious… how do you come by this?!'  
  
'Hogwarts my lord. My eyes and ears spoke of some rather disturbing things taking place there. Amongst all manner of things, was the existence of this book. Dumbledore's private collection I believe. I risked much in stealing it, but was undetected my lord…'  
  
There… it was done. Impatiently he waited for his master's response, whatever that may be. If he was to be punished with his life, then so be it. For a moment Voldemort spoke nothing, and then he laughed loudly, the cold air in his voice putting a grim satisfaction in Luscious' bones.  
  
'Your risk was acceptable my servant,' Voldemort spoke simply, running his viciously clawed hands over the ancient book, 'You have done well, Dumbledore will be hard pressed with this in my possession, as will the killer of your son be to stop me. You remember him well, don't you Luscious? Harry Potter!'  
  
Without realizing, Luscious bared his teeth in a sneer at the man's name. And not for killing his son, Draco deserved that for letting it happen, but for the principle of it all. Harry Potter still remained at large after all these years, and rumor held that he had gained considerable power with which he could challenge the dark lord. False of course! Who could believe such lies?! No one could challenge the dark lord! But the threat remained as true as it did when he had earned that lightening bolt scar on his forehead, and Luscious' master had thus far failed to acquire satisfactory vengeance over the boy, something which he was certain still bothered the dark lord a great deal.  
  
'Yes my lord, I remember him well. The boy who lived…'  
  
'And the man who will die in all good time. He and I have some rather unfinished business that is in need of taking care of… but for now, watch Luscious, as history is made…'  
  
And at that, Luscious brought his head up just high enough to see the dark lord open the ancient book with a gesture of his fingers, which quickly flicked through it's pages until it landed on a specific one holding all manner of long forgotten runes. At that Voldemort held the book silently, looking over it for a moment, until there was a sudden lurch in reality, the world shifting slightly out of phase making Luscious feel nauseous. A green light unexpectedly engulfed the pages of the book and it flew out of the dark lord's hands. Yet the light remained fixed on Voldemort, shining into the dark cavity where his face should reside beneath the robe hood.  
  
Almighty shrieks engulfed them as they stood there, the book floating sinuously above as the sounds of long dead souls seemed to scream from within the book. Spirits and demons clawed their way from it's tattered pages, forming from the lines of blood written text and lunged mercilessly at Voldemort, flying in beneath his black hood as the dark lord began to wretch suddenly, veins beginning to grow wider on his gnarled hands.   
  
'MY LORD!' Luscious yelled in concern, as Voldemort's body began to spasm where he stood, but he never answered, looking as though he were enjoying the experience, no matter the pain. Throwing his head back, Voldemort's cloak hood dropped back to reveal the Dark Lord's face, his mouth wide open in sadistic pleasure, revealing rows of sharp, bladelike teeth that dripped with saliva as the book's ancient spirits clawed their way through down his throat, producing guttural screams of agony. Luscious wanted desperately to help his master, yet the process was beginning to slow after what had seemed an eternity, Voldemort's yells had begun to diminish.  
  
Without warning, the book of wrapping vines that had floated about them, suddenly dropped out of mid air, hitting the floor with a clank of it's metal bindings, before it closed up upon itself, the air returning to it's original state of calmness as though nothing had happened. Luscious sat kneeling, his eyes intently staring to his master who's head was now bowed over, his breathing distraught, but otherwise still alive.  
  
'My Lord?' he asked tentatively, nearing his master ever so slightly, 'Are you… alright?'  
  
Voldemort looked up to face him, his eyes suddenly opening wide to reveal shining green orbs that burned with such an intensity that Luscious had to shield his own eyes from the light. And then a cold, deadly voice spoke within his mind.  
  
"Better than alright my servant… history has been made!" Luscious lurched back in shock. Voldemort was now a Psychic mage! And at once, as though reading his thoughts, the dark lord threw back his head and let loose long, cackling laughter, that echoed on throughout the building as the storm outside roiled and heaved in the night. Voldemort was more powerful now than ever. Who could tell what would come of this event? But of that, one thing Luscious was sure of.  
  
Twenty years of peace and unity between muggles and wizards was now at an end. Voldemort would come out of hiding after all this time and take back the world that was his. For the dark lord had lain low quite long enough…   
  
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Hi all, I tell you, it won't be doing the world any good now the dark lord has another of the books. Will anyone be safe?! You'll all find out soon enough I grant you all that. And I hope you stick around until next chapter, you better be checking for updates everyday, I could upload at anytime. Seriously. Anyway, hope you like it, the plot thickens eh?! Happy reading.  
  
Regards Richard Flynn 


	7. Mistakes

Chapter 7 – Mistakes  
  
Harry sat quietly at his lacquered desk, elegant feather quills next to him writing quickly upon an empty piece of parchment as his mind wandered to and fro between reality and unconscious thought. Professor Lupin sat idly towards the other end of the room, sometimes exchanging a glance with him, though Harry paid him no mind, concentrating solely on the words he was writing. Every so often he would stroke the growing stubble on his chin in reflection, and the quills would pause momentarily in deliberation, imitating their master, before Harry would nod once more and the scribbling continued. Breathing a calm sigh, he took a moment to glance down at the parchment, reading the graceful script of elegant text that flowed it's way from side to side across it. Certain pieces he thought on, and mistakes corrected themselves accordingly as he once again began stroking his chin in thought. The final lines quickly formed at the base of the parchment and Harry read over them swiftly, searching for mistakes as he planned the last words in his head…  
  
"… the new term has started great for me, and our daughter is going quite fine with her classes. Apart from the usual annoyance of the Slytherins, Genevieve is coping remarkably well. She is a very clever young girl. I cannot imagine how much of her life I've missed, and yours as well. Know Ginny that I love you very much, we will be a family again, our troubles are behind us for now…"  
  
He looked sullenly to the final words; "for now"… what did he really mean by that? Shrugging, Harry dismissed the thought and sealed the letter with Ginny's name embossed on it's front, holding it lofted above his head as an owl descended from the high roof beams, clasping it within it's talons before flying out an open window, taking it to the recipient. Post never felt as easy to him, or remarkable. Owls truly were intelligent creatures, though technically they were obsolete compared to e-mail, a technology no longer restricted to use outside of Hogwarts. The castle's rebuilding had negated many of the school's prior qualities. The inability to use muggle technology to name but one.  
  
Glancing up from his study, Harry cast a look through his long fringe, taking in the forms of thirty young students, heads down in concentration as they busily wrote his conjured notes from the board behind him. Everyone of them was perfectly behaved, much to his liking. Term had begun not a week gone by, and already Harry had made something of a name for himself about the school. Particularly amongst the other teachers, some of whom remembered him from their own Hogwarts days, though few of the students had learned anything regarding you know who and himself. The latter was something he was still getting used to, though he felt at ease that everyone thought of him as just another person. Fewer still knew the truth that he was actually a Prodigen Mage, since he persisted in using a wand, and it was fear for his daughter's safety that kept his use of Essence under a VERY strict basis.  
  
Guiding his eyes across the mass of down turned faces, he watched for a few minutes as slowly, each of his students finished the notes he'd posted and sat up looking to him intently. They were third year students, all of them, and according to him, had thus far received a rather ambiguous study of Defense Against the Dark Arts. That wasn't anything out of the ordinary of course, taking into account his own experiences at the class, but peace in the world had made everyone somewhat complacent about the idea of dark wizards. As he knew it, many had escaped Azkaban during the confusion of the war, yet seeing as their presence in the world had not been heard of for so long, most had considered them long since dead and buried. A folly he knew could not be tolerated… not in HIS students.  
  
Rising stiffly to his feet, Harry clapped his hands together briskly, drawing all the class's eyes towards him in a microsecond. Quills left hands and clattered on their owner's wooden tables, and for a moment there wasn't a breath to be heard as attention focused solely onto him. Clearing his throat noisily, he tapped his wand against the blackboard behind him, it's curious array of chalk lines quickly dispersed, before they reassembled themselves into the haunting form of a Dementor. There were a number of uneasy breaths about the room at this time, though everyone kept to their discipline. Harry liked that a lot.  
  
'Dementors…' he spoke aloud, earning another series of anxious looks from the faces before him. 'These creatures are amongst the most darkest and depraved of the Shadow's minions. They prey on happiness, leaving little more than shadows and despair in their wake. Over the next few lessons they will be the center of this course, and hence, will require much on your part if you are to learn of them successfully. I will not sugar coat the truth children, this course will be difficult, more so with myself as your teacher. But if you all apply the necessary energy towards this subject, you will learn a great deal that may become quite useful should you ever be faced by… one of these.'  
  
And he tapped his wand against the sinuous form of the Dementor, which turned irritatingly to face him despite being a chalk drawing.  
  
'Are there any questions before we begin?'  
  
There were mutters for a moment throughout the quiet mass of black robed students, before one hesitant hand raised into the air.  
  
'Excuse me sir?' a boy asked, apparently not quite sure of himself, 'I'm confused, my brother Gerald is in fifth year, and he told me he didn't study Dementors until he was in his forth. Why are we doing these now?'  
  
Harry twirled the wand about between his fingers, measuring the boy in his eyes. There seemed no great harm in the question.  
  
'Necessity… according to the headmaster that is. Professor Dumbledore believes it essential to teach you such things. Though I haven't always seen eye to eye on the headmaster's policies,' he grimaced slightly at that, 'I do happen to agree with him. I studied Dementors in my third year and that knowledge saved my life. Dare I say that same knowledge may also save yours. I must also mention that only those who show promise in this class will be accepted into my own personal tutoring, which will most definitely go further than the scope of this course.'   
  
The boy looked to him with some vague understanding. Not that there was anything difficult to understand, Harry took him for an idiot, and idiots usually hurt themselves somehow. Across the other end of the room, another hand shot into the air, and began waving about frantically when it's owner wasn't acknowledged immediately.  
  
'Yes…'  
  
'Are we really ready for this kind of thing?' asked a young girl with blonde hair, 'I mean… I read about these things in a book once, only really powerful witches or wizards are capable of repelling Dementors. I don't think that we being third years would be capable of nearly enough magic to make those things flinch.'  
  
A number of bemused students nodded in apparent agreement, before turning back to Harry with eyes that looked anxious to see his reaction to the young girl's question. Harry began thumbing his wand irritatingly as he stared the girl down with needles. There was a danger in what she had said, and he knew it all too well. Truth be told, third years in general were quite simply not powerful enough to cast the Patronus charm necessary to repel a full grown Dementor. He mused that he was a unique case at the time he learnt it, partly because of his power and partly because of his strong need for it. But his students could never understand that. At any rate, Harry didn't want anyone questioning him unconstructively in his class. He had to hold onto the students… why he wasn't exactly sure. Though he felt that he had the duty to nonetheless. Afterall, it was too late to say you never learnt enough in DADA when you were dead. Harry grinded his teeth together audibly, and Lupin glanced towards him, putting down a rather thick novel he had been reading.  
  
'Is it not enough that your teacher chooses to follow this course?' Harry said slightly taken aback, 'What have any of you got to lose from learning these skills?'  
  
Not appearing to notice his irritation, the blonde girl put her hand up again, waving it about unceremoniously in the air until he looked at her again.  
  
'Yes?!… Again!'  
  
'What Professor Dumbledore or yourself says we should be learning isn't the issue I'm talking about… the point is that we aren't ready for this. We haven't nearly got enough strength or experience to repel these things!'  
  
Harry threw his wand down in disgust, which made hollow clattering noises on the cold stone floor, before he walked over to the girl's table and bent close to her until they were both nose to nose.  
  
'You shouldn't presume to understand how much power you have child. I have seen power arise in the most least likely of places, sometimes to my cost, and dare I say that you have not reached your full potential just yet. I believe it would do you some good in fact, to force your magic a little.' And he turned to the other students who were staring at him blankly, 'And the same counts for the rest of you as well. I'll be having no more discussion on this matter from anyone else, is that understood?'  
  
Faces quickly nodded, murmuring their agreement readily as Harry cast annoyed stares across the room, glazing over his students. Lupin was sitting to attention in his seat, and seemed to want to say something to him, but closed his mouth at the last moment when Harry's stare swept over him as well. The blonde girl sat sullenly with her arms crossed, looking unhappily towards him at having been rebutted so effectively.  
  
'It's just weird that's all…' she muttered childishly beneath her breath. And that was all Harry felt he could take.  
  
'ENOUGH!!!' he shouted loudly, slamming his fists down upon his desk. Several students jumped back in alarm, Lupin went stone stiff. 'It is NOT your position to think what's "Weird" young lady! You should all feel privileged to be given the chance to learn at a higher level… PRIVILEGED!!!'  
  
A slight shuffling to his right announced Lupin's presence. Harry barely looked up when the man bent close and whispered into his ear.  
  
'Don't hassle the students Harry. We know you've had it hard, but they don't understand like we do…'  
  
Harry bared his teeth in anger, his knuckles going white. Lupin stepped back slightly from him as he growled beneath his breath.  
  
'Understand? UNDERSTAND?! None of you understand. Not one of you!' and Harry stared over the curious faces that were looking to him, some with minute beads of sweat forming at their brows. Harry raised his voice to carry across the room, but his gaze centered onto the blonde haired girl, who retreated back somewhat, 'None of you have ANY idea what's out there. NONE OF YOU!!! And to have the hide to complain about things you don't understand! AARRGGHHH!!!'  
  
Raising his hand towards her, the young girl lifted frightfully into the air, earning gasps and screams from the students around her. Harry was only vaguely aware of his wand lying on the cold stone floor, as he took in the girl's horrified expression. Her eyes looked to be popping out of her head in terror. An all too familiar voice echoed in the far recesses of his mind… "Kill her Harry, like all the others, KILL HER!!!"   
  
Strong hands suddenly gripped at his back, and Lupin began shouting at him vainly above the screams.  
  
'Calm down Harry! Control yourself!'  
  
Harry blinked in surprise, just realizing that pulses of blue energy were leeching sporadically from his eyes. He looked once more to the girl he held with flashings of air. She looked like the living dead, her eyes were pictures of horror, and her skin had gone pale with fright… Abruptly he released her, the invisible bonding of air suddenly disappearing as she dropped to the floor with a thud. Tears had begun pouring from her eyes which she dared not face towards him. Sudden waves of guilt overcame Harry at that moment, and horrible memories of dying children began flooding into his mind. Cackling laughter echoed in the back of his head, so he lowered his voice gently.  
  
'Class dismissed…' and in a tumultuous surge, students leapt to their feet and clawed their way tooth and nail to the exit, which served as a bottleneck, squeezing the black robed children tightly. Books were dropped and parchments thrown askew, nothing but the clattering of dropped belongings seemed to resonate with Harry at that moment in time, he'd descended into a trance of his own. Within moments the room had emptied, the desks standing by with their chairs lopsided and fallen, a cold draft blowing through the open door as it swung idly on it's hinges. Harry released a long held breath, before he collapsed into his chair, feeling drained and sullen. Being sad about things wasn't going to help him now though, his secret was out, the damage had been done.  
  
Lupin stood to his left shaking, and wiped his brow of sweat with a cloth. The look apparent over his face seemed to speak what he'd been fearing would occur. He wasn't hoping to have anyone know of what he was, and it was all too possible that prejudice would follow soon. Rumors would be spreading about the school this very moment. Of that he was certain. Breathing deep, Lupin bit his lip absent mindedly, looking hesitantly towards him. Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking, though the implication of trouble was there definitely there. Somehow, Harry could feel the worry that had come over the ageing man. An uncanny ability, though it only served to help him understand others better. Needless to say, the skill had been used for… other things, during his lifetime. Things he wasn't proud of…  
  
Lupin cleared his throat audibly, and cast a rather rueful glance to the old wooden doors of the classroom. The drafts of chilling air that seeped through the gap matched Harry's mood, which was both frustrated and annoyed.   
  
'I'm sure you know,' Lupin began, drawing Harry's attention for a brief moment as he spoke, 'There will undoubtedly be repercussions from this day. Pretty soon you'll be up to your armpits with letters from concerned parents, none of which, mind you, will want to see their children be taught by a Prodigen Mage. Being what I am, I know well enough how things work to assure you that.'  
  
Harry tried not to listen to him, his mind felt like nothing but a flurry of swirling images, pain, guilt and sadness all rolled together. But try as he might, he couldn't shut the man out completely, not when he talked sense. Not when he above all others had a vague understanding of where he was coming from, being an outsider and all. He didn't know where the feeling came from that moment, though Harry felt the urge to laugh. Or was it cry? He couldn't be sure of himself anymore, and as certain as his feelings were at the time, no sound came out his mouth. Was he losing his humanity?  
  
'Why are we hated Remus?' Harry asked, feeling at a loss to say anything else, his gaze still centered on the open doorway. 'Why are we feared so much?'  
  
Lupin didn't move from his seat, but gave him a commiserating look nonetheless. Harry sensed… understanding, coming from the man, who looked to him with sullen eyes set deep in their sockets. The man's well worn cloak served only to emphasize this, he himself looked as worn as the rags he was wearing. Lupin only tsked, but there was feeling in it that Harry wasn't expecting.   
  
'Why?… Very good question Harry. Why indeed…' and he paused at that moment, furrowing his brow in thought. Harry looked curiously towards him before he continued on.   
  
'Being a Werewolf hasn't bode well for me Harry. It certainly hasn't… and though I understand that my alternate form is dangerous, I make a point to remind myself everyday, that people often choose not look further than skin deep. It is a failing I've seen in more people than you can possibly know. But it is not their fault Harry, people are ignorant…'  
  
Harry slumped a little, knowing that what Lupin was saying was indeed true. Though it helped his situation very little.  
  
'But know this Harry,' Lupin went on, 'Arrogance alone cannot excuse what has happened today. That girl may very well have been fearful of her life, you and your murderous muttering and all…'  
  
'Muttering?!' Harry asked frightfully, his knuckles going white, 'Muttering what?!'  
  
Lupin met his eyes levelly, making no effort to hide what he was thinking. He seemed… concerned.  
  
'I distinctly remember the words "Kill her Harry, like all the others…" Now I'm afraid I must ask you, were you seriously planning on harming the girl, petulant as she was? Hardly a motive… Harry I must know!'  
  
Harry folded his hands neatly together on his desk, steepling his fingers together as he bit his lip.  
  
'No…' he answered shortly, getting a rather withdrawn look from the old man, 'I wasn't going to harm her Remus… I… I just lost control. That's all. I'm not dangerous I assure you.'  
  
'Is that so? Somehow I think your students may have something to say about that. Not to mention myself for that matter. You don't know how terrifying you looked Harry, and from that alone it's hardly surprising why people hate us so much. I was just relieved you didn't do something far more extreme, though I admit I know as little about Prodigens as the next man, I was expecting… disaster, to put it simply.'  
  
Harry bowed his head deeply. The pain was there within him, and shame as well. He wanted to cry, yet the tears wouldn't come, they'd stopped flowing many years ago…  
  
'I don't understand Remus,' Harry began slowly, turning to face Lupin's dark eyes, 'Dumbledore knows what I am… so why? Why did he hire me knowing the danger I posed?'  
  
'Dumbledore is getting old Harry. He was old when I first came to Hogwarts, which was a very long time ago indeed. Sad to say that as brilliant as Albus is, his mind is starting to waver a little, so decisions to him are sometimes baseless or totally illogical. Strangely however, he understands that, and sometimes takes precautions so as not to make rash decisions. As for your appointment however, he seemed thoroughly adamant about the idea, and thought that students may very well benefit from your prior experience… out in the field. Perhaps he fears as I did, that returning to civilized life might be such a shock to you that your mind would be unable to cope with it. It's likely he wants you here to keep you in check as you return to a quiet life. I don't know apart from that, but, there is no place safer for you than Hogwarts. Remember that Harry.'  
  
Harry frowned at him, Dumbledore wasn't someone he felt willing to talk about at this time no matter how curious he was. He was just one of those swirling problems in his head.  
  
'I remember hearing those same words twenty years ago Remus,' he said quietly, tapping his fingers on the desk, 'Dumbledore held me here as a prisoner when I should've been living my life. And years of torture outside have done no good for me whatsoever… I hate Dumbledore for what he's done, and everything he stands for! I don't know why I came back here, it's like I've gone back in time, but there's no time turner in sight.'  
  
And he pulled from his pocket, an old, antique pendant. Opening the gold casing, he looked past the long since broken clock, and stared towards a water blurred photo of a young woman, her long red hair swaying elegantly to and fro as she smiled back at him. Harry smiled himself, but it was out of bitterness.  
  
'She was all I had Remus,' he spoke, feeling worse than Lupin looked, 'Ginny was all I ever had… and even now Albus Dumbledore has taken her away from me… She was the only thing that kept me sane while I was out there Remus, the ONLY person who ever mattered to me. But it wasn't enough that Dumbledore should take away my life, that he had to take my family away from me as well. I don't know if I could ever forgive him for that, and I don't think I ever will… I'm a prisoner again.'  
  
Lupin sighed as Harry snapped the ornate watch closed once more, his hands tight around the piece of well worked gold between his fingers.  
  
'No Harry,' the man mused, his voice full of understanding and compassion, 'You're not a prisoner here. Not anymore… I don't think I'll ever fully understand Dumbledore's reasons for doing what he did. Few people ever do, but I think somewhere within himself Albus felt he was doing the right thing by you. You see Harry, Prodigens are people from fairy tales. Fearful characters who wield such immense power that worlds quiver at their presence. They are that same presence told of to scare children, and are so rare, that the stereo type is enough to scare adults as well, those who believe the myths of Prodigens actually existing.   
  
If what Dumbledore tells me is true, then you are indeed a true Prodigen, and needless to say that more than just children will be scared when news of your presence becomes common knowledge… I'm not saying that you've changed as a person because of it, but… I feel, sorry for you Harry. For me at least there was a way to hide what I was, but you are different. There is no hiding what you are, and much trouble will come of this yet I assure you. Just remember that your family is well. Ginny works for the ministry now, and your daughter Genevieve is here at Hogwarts. No matter what happens to you in the coming months, remember that everything you have done has contributed to their safety. We may all very well owe you a debt that cannot be repaid Harry, though the world may not know of it. People will fear you, as I know they will. But you must go on nonetheless…'  
  
Harry smiled grimly, taking in everything the old man was saying to him. It all made sense, and probably the only reason he had listened to him for so long was due to he himself being an outsider as well.   
  
'Yes Remus, I know… Thankyou. You don't know what it means to know there is someone out there you can trust…'  
  
At that, Lupin placed a calming hand on his shoulder, and gave him a warm smile.  
  
'Oh no Harry, I believe I do…'   
  
Two hours had slowly ticked by before Lupin managed to free himself from the classroom. Looking as bad as he felt, people stared at him as he began casing the draft swept corridors, apparently not noticing those he past, and offering shrugged apologies for anyone he walked into. His face had gone awfully pale, and not just because the next full moon was a mere week away, but the very air he breathed in tingled with traces of this "Essence" that Dumbledore often spoke so reverently about. Just the feel of that kind of magic made his skin crawl and his breath cut short, yet it was also seductive, as though it were trying to lure him with a beckoning finger… The last time he ever remembered feeling like that was in Dumbledore's office… when he had his hand over the book of wrapping vines. Just the memory of that ancient volume put a shiver down his spine, the book literally reeked of evil. What difference there was between the books and this "Essence", remained a complete mystery to him, though questions seemed to throb in his head almost constantly now. One of which being, "How could Harry possibly be able to stand using that magic, knowing what it was?" or, more to the point, "Was it even possible to resist the temptation of such power?"  
  
Those questions and more swirled about in Lupin's mind for what seemed an eternity, all the while his feet were leading him away from the source of the disturbance… Harry. And pretty soon, he discovered just how quickly rumors of his incident had traveled, when disbelieving whispers reached his ears from groups of conversing students, huddled in dark corners or secluded hallways, anywhere they thought their words couldn't be heard. But Lupin wasn't deaf, and the students knew this too, often hushing their voices at the sight of him, knowing very well that he was there when Harry's temper began to rise. Normally Lupin would've thought the idea of listening to student gossip as ridiculous at the best of times, usually events would come out of children's mouths in a number of versions, each one more improbable than the next, and not a scrap of it would be true. However, not all teachers were as discerning as he, and some would go so far as to believe every word an adolescent says without so much as checking for themselves. That he had to worry about. Should other staff learn of his presence with Harry, and they would, then he would be the first they came to with their wild suspicions. In the end it was all but inevitable that they would learn of the event, but steps had to be taken to ensure how that information was received by everyone. And that meant consulting Dumbledore.  
  
As he walked down the deserted corridors, he came to an intersection that led to two different sections of the castle. The left led towards the north tower and hence the staff common room besides, where teachers would gather of a night when work was done. The idea of that however didn't appeal to him all that much however, scary visions of teachers trying to force information out of him regarding Harry's outburst had begun entering his mind, so wisely, he turned to the right, down the corridor that led towards Dumbledore's office. It made sense to him as he began nearing the giant stone gargoyle that guarded it, Dumbledore should know of this as soon as possible.   
  
What would happen to Harry, and to him, because of it remained a mystery, though it was something he tried not to think about when he spoke the password to the bronze colored eagle, which promptly shifted itself aside to reveal the revolving staircase that spiraled upwards. Remus began practicing in his mind the things he would say as he neared the office doors. The majority included apologies and the like that he hoped the old wizard would accept, though the stakes at which he'd made the promises to Albus in the first place were so high that he somewhat doubted that Dumbledore would accept any excuse for letting Harry's temper get the better of him. That last made Lupin gulp audibly, feeling as though he had butterflies in his stomach. Though when he finally worked up the courage to enter, the scene was not as he'd been expecting.  
  
Sitting tiredly behind his desk, Dumbledore looked up anxiously towards him as he shut the door quietly behind him. His eyes looked sullen and weary, and he didn't look so much as half prepared to give him the tongue lashing he'd been expecting. In front of the desk however, two chairs stood facing the headmaster from opposite sides of the desk. One of them was turned slightly so he could see, and sitting in it, a beautiful red haired young woman who looked curiously at him with her big brown eyes.  
  
'Ginny?!' Lupin choked out in surprise, shocked to see her away from the Ministry, 'What are you doing here?'  
  
The young woman blinked for a moment, looking rather bemused by the question, but returned a smile to him after a tense second.  
  
'I must see my husband Remus…' she said in a tight voice, a small blush overcoming her cheeks, 'I… I miss him.'  
  
'Oh?' he answered back, feeling rather stupid at such a mediocre response, 'I see…'  
  
At that moment Dumbledore cleared his throat, bringing their combined attention onto him. Between his fingers Remus could see the familiar golden glint of a watch, shining in the half light of the office, but didn't give it another thought as the old man grunted, bringing his eyes up to meet his levelly.  
  
'I'm sorry Ginny,' he began despairingly, his mouth twitching at the apparent hurt spread over the woman's face, 'I'm afraid it may be impossible for you to see him at the present time…'  
  
'Impossible?!' the red head retorted suddenly, 'What do you mean impossible?! He's just returned home Professor, and I've only seen him twice in the past twenty years! What on earth could make it impossible for me to see him?!'  
  
'Harry is in a rather odious predicament Mrs Potter, needless to say it would be unwise for you to see him right now.'   
  
Ginny grinded her teeth audibly as she stared back at the headmaster with needles. For a brief second Remus thought he could see a tear in the corner of her eye. Patiently he decided not speak, though he was prepared to give a report of what he'd just seen in Harry's defense class at a moment's notice. Curiously though, Dumbledore withdrew his wand and traced out the shape of a seat in the air which solidified next to him and gestured him to sit.  
  
'Take a seat Remus,' he said then, putting his wand back into his robe pocket, 'I am already aware of why you are here. In fact, it is fortunate Ginny that you are in attendance, there are things you must know of Harry…'  
  
Ginny shot out of her seat, her eyes blazing in anger.  
  
'For your information I already know all that's necessary about my husband! And need I say that he blames most of it on you!   
  
Dumbledore ignored her that moment and focused his attention on Lupin, which only served to enrage the fiery woman even more.  
  
'Remus, would you care to tell Mrs Potter exactly what has happened today?'  
  
Ginny and Albus both looked to him expectantly, so he took a deep breath and said everything he remembered, leaving nothing out as far as he knew.  
  
'Harry grew very angry during one of his lessons today… he… he lifted a young girl into the air against her will, using wandless magic. While he was doing that he began muttering all manner of murderous things. I don't know what he would've done if I hadn't intervened in time.'  
  
Ginny's eyes widened for a fraction of a second in shock as he finished what he was saying, but her face became hard again as though she'd been expecting something like this to happen. It was Remus's turn now to be shocked. Turning to Albus, she approached him threateningly and pounded her hands down on the old wooden desk.  
  
'Are you trying to scare me about Harry being a Prodigen mage?! I know all that! And that he's done something like this for whatever reason is just proof that he's been pushed too far. It's all your fault Albus! You kept him away from me for TWENTY years! You knew I missed him terribly and you didn't tell me anything. But I assure you, he told me EVERYTHING, and from what he said I know you definitely had a part to play in all this. Everything is your fault, whatever is wrong with Harry it is all because of your meddling!'  
  
Ginny finished with a gasp, breathing hard as sweat rolled down her crimson cheeks. Her arms were strained as she held onto the edge of Dumbledore's wooden table.  
  
'Are you quite done Ginny?' Albus asked patiently, making the woman's eyes flare up once more, 'If so, SIT DOWN!!!'  
  
Ginny stood back suddenly at Albus's outburst, and sullenly took her seat, if not reluctantly. She sat there brooding with her hands folded, every so often passing a stabbing glance towards the headmaster.  
  
'Now then…' Albus continued, his voice calm and controlled, looking to Lupin once more, 'Tell me, what's your impression of Harry? Is he as dangerous as all these students have made him out to be?'  
  
'Well…' Remus began, pulling at his robe cuffs, 'I tried to keep him calm, but the smallest thing set him off. And when he got angry, I thought he'd do something horrible! I think you can still feel the energy in the room…'  
  
Ginny sat there impatiently in her high backed seat taking it all in. Though if Remus were to bet on anything, he'd say she wasn't at all pleased to be hearing this. After a moment she confirmed his fears.  
  
'I knew it, you're just as bad as he is!' Ginny said forcefully, indicating back to Albus, 'Keeping tabs on my husband. You should both be ashamed of yourselves, this entire matter is about whether I can see Harry or not, it has absolutely NOTHING to do with Harry being a Prodigen!'  
  
A silence gripped the room then as Lupin shrank back into his seat, feeling thoroughly mortified, until a heartless voice suddenly broke the air.  
  
'I think otherwise Mrs Potter…'  
  
Lupin jumped at the voice, not realizing there was another person in the room with them. Ginny's stare shot suddenly to her left, taking in the other high backed chair that faced Dumbledore's desk. From his vantage point, Remus couldn't see who was sitting in it behind it's high back support. The heartless voice continued…  
  
'I fear that being a Prodigen has everything to do with this matter… unfortunate for you…'  
  
And from the side Remus could see a long, armored hand extend forth, burying the lighted end of a cigarette into the chair's lacquered wooden armrest. Dumbledore looked disdainfully at the seated figure as a large hole was burnt into the wood, yet he said nothing. He looked, anxious… Rising from the seat, a tall figure in burnished silver armor stood stiffly on the spot, before he turned to face Remus, fixing him with cold, calculating eyes. The man stood imperiously overlooking everyone in the room as the light from beyond the windows shined in, highlighting the jagged edges on his age old armor. Long diagonal stripes of lurid red crossed his chest, and bright yellow tassels hung at his shoulders, signifying his rank as a Lieutenant Commander of the fabled Viridian Guard…  
  
Remus shrank even further back into his seat at the sight of the man, numerous scars criss crossing his face from the countless civil battles that took place after the muggle wizard war. One could not help but feel awe at looking upon the hand chosen guard of the Viridian King, the highly trained elite who kept the peace world wide. Casually the veteran soldier looked down his nose at Lupin, before the armor covering his hands suddenly dissolved into his skin, having been built almost completely out of nanite machines. Across from him, Ginny gulped at the sight, shrinking slightly into her own seat as the soldier's extensive shadow was cast over her.  
  
'So…' the impressive man began, flexing his fingers loudly, 'Here we all are… united by this Harry Potter I keep hearing about… Question is, what are we to do about him? Hmm… well, so as to keep things short, I'll get straight to the point, I'm on a tight schedule as it is.'   
  
And he bent down, turning his seat so he could see everyone in his field of vision, before seating himself, relief quite evident over his matured face.   
  
'This man is a Prodigen Mage, correct? I believe we've worked out that much by ourselves. And in addition to this, Mr Potter also wields… erm… "Essence"…' he turned to Dumbledore, 'Did I pronounce that correctly headmaster?'  
  
Albus nodded weakly, plainly just agreeing with whatever the man said. Though Dumbledore had a great many years more on the man, it was quite evident exactly who stood superior between the two. The soldier went on…  
  
'As is my understanding, Essence is an ancient form of magic that is more powerful than the norm by a hundred fold at least. It sounds impossible really, but I am inclined to believe such tales, especially considering what I saw this morning… It may come to you all as a surprise, but the Viridian King keeps a fast track of all major magical actions performed about Britain at any one time. If, Mr Lupin, what you say is true, then this student's forced levitation coincides with a massive energy burst that occurred here about 11.40 this morning. Naturally I arrived as soon as I could… yet even so, I'm at a loss as to how such a thing is possible. Professor? Could you explain this to me somehow?…'  
  
Dumbledore put away the golden watch he held between his fingers, but chose not to look up to the man who was speaking to him, it was almost as if Albus was deferring to this man.  
  
'Our knowledge of Essence is sparse at best,' Dumbledore began, keeping his gaze firmly attached to the table. 'However, what is known is that Essence is extremely wasteful. Even small actions like, for instance, turning a page in a book, or lighting a candle, uses incredibly large quantities of Essence. Often not even a hundredth of the energy is required for it, but one of the main failings of Essence is it's power is not easy to manipulate in small quantities. By small I mean the amount used with a wand. Fortunately, wand magic is far more refined than Essence, it controls the flow of magic before releasing it. Essence appears to be the direct opposite to this however. We could assume it is merely unrefined, or it could have been a tailor made magic, used specifically for large tasks. We don't know, the last people to use Essence in any great amount are over three thousand years dead.'  
  
The soldier looked to Dumbledore with weighing eyes, stroking the point of his oiled beard in a very analytical pose. Then he nodded.  
  
'Very impressive headmaster… strange though, your knowledge is quite extensive despite the fact the last people to use Essence are as you say, over three thousand years dead. But impressive nonetheless. No… I felt more interested in the other part you said, about Essence being wasteful… what was the ratio you used for it again professor?'  
  
'One to One-hundred.' Dumbledore replied, finally looking up at the man. The soldier frowned seriously at him, and Dumbledore lowered his eyes once more. Ginny looked perplexed towards them both, before her eyes met with Remus's. Meanwhile the Viridian Soldier had begun chuckling slightly, and the two of them looked to him feeling even more confused.  
  
'Strange you should say that Albus…,' he said of a sudden, steepling his fingers, 'Because the ratio recorded by the Viridian King was over a thousand times that number!'  
  
Dumbledore's white eyebrows retreated into his forehead in shock. It was more surprise than Ginny and Remus both had ever seen of the old wizard, though neither of them really understood why that was. Turning to face them, the soldier seemed to understand their confusion and bent closer towards them, his eyes so full of malice.  
  
'Mr Lupin, you said that the student was levitated from the floor correct?'  
  
Remus nodded.  
  
'Well, you know how little magic is required for such a task I expect?'  
  
Remus nodded again, feeling a little tense.  
  
'The reason for all the surprise on Dumbledore's part is due to the level of magic used in this simple task. Whereas we use very little, Mr Potter's Essence used a lot more. In other words, with that simple levitation, Harry Potter used enough magic to wipe this school off the face of the earth three times over, and leave nothing but a crater full of bubbling slag… Now do you both understand?!'  
  
Ginny and Remus both sat there stunned are severely alarmed. The sheer disbelief that Remus felt was absolutely overpowering, he couldn't possibly know just how bad the new information was affecting Ginny, but he glad he wasn't in her shoes at the very least. She must be going through hell. Suddenly Ginny began frantically shaking her head from side to side, refusing to believe a word of it.  
  
'No… no that's not possible! How could anyone be capable of such magic? It's just impossible!' she spoke ferverently, her breath becoming a little hoarse.   
  
'No Ginny,' Dumbledore answered her, looking even more wearied than he was previously, and a little forlorn. 'It is quite possible I'm afraid. I admit that when we hired your husband all those years back, we did not anticipate just how powerful he would become. That is the folly of being old I guess.'  
  
Ginny rounded on him suddenly.  
  
'Hired? What on earth are you talking about?'  
  
'At the end of Harry's sixth year, I realized the incredible amount of magical ability he held within him. A put it down simply that he was a particularly unique case, so I had him trained for several years to see how it would eventuate. I was so impressed, that I took him into service for the Order, and he's been eliminating dark wizards on a continual basis ever since.'  
  
'What?!' Ginny shouted in horror, rising stiffly to her feet once more. 'You seriously did that?! Even knowing everything he's been through prior to his sixth year?!'  
  
'ESPECIALLY knowing everything he's been through prior to his sixth year. Haven't you yet realized why the order kept a hold on him for so long? His orders were simple; capture or kill on site. And I must say he's done better at that than any singe legion of Aurors I've ever met. He is an Assassin Ginny. And for everyday he was out in the field he drew one step closer to Voldemort, I cannot imagine why I released him now.'  
  
Ginny sat back down with an expression on her face similar to someone who'd been slapped. Remus looked to her sympathetically, before he looked back to Dumbledore with a deep sense of mistrust. The old man really was barmy! All of a sudden the soldier laughed and began clapping his hands together roughly as though something funny had been said.  
  
'So that's what's been happening!' he said as if it were a revelation, 'That would explain much. I thought the world grew peaceful rather quickly. So tell me Albus, how many dark wizards did Mr Potter capture?'  
  
'Several hundred. A few of those were from Voldemort's inner circle, escapees from Azkaban and the like…'  
  
'Interesting… and, um… how many did Mr Potter kill on site, hmm?'  
  
'We lost count…'  
  
Again the soldier began laughing raucously, clapping his hands together with a giant grin spread over his scarred, but otherwise handsome face.  
  
'So let me get this straight… Harry Potter was a student at this school who showed an incredible talent for magic. You capitalized on the opportunity and trained him. Then for the last twenty or so years he's been hunting down dark wizards every time you crooked a finger… And now that he has returned, you've employed him to teach the next generation of witches, wizards and muggles! For crying out loud, the man is a trained Assassin with a short temper, a grudge against you by the sounds of it, and enough magic behind him to wipe out a country per week! Bringing him here doesn't sound very wise to me old man, WHAT IN GOD'S NAME WERE YOU THINKING??!!'  
  
'It was a method of keeping an eye on him and keeping him under control…' Dumbledore answered, but the man sneered at the excuse and pounded his now re-armored fists down on the desk before him.  
  
'Under control? UNDER CONTROL?! My good man, there are far better ways to keep someone like this "under control". If you think he'll keep calm just because of his daughter – yes yes Dumbledore I know of Genevieve Potter, I've done my homework – then you have seriously underestimated the situation. Thus far he has proven little more to me than he has the ability to do some major destruction to this world and the peace we have worked so hard to achieve! By bringing him here, you have not only endangered his daughter's life, but the lives of every person in this castle and the grounds beyond!'  
  
Dumbledore's fingers were starting to shake as his skin began to go pale. He was scared, absolutely. But of this man?!  
  
'Harry's love for his family is total Lieutenant Commander,' Dumbledore tried to reason desperately, 'He would never harm any student in this school no matter how angry he gets, let alone his own daughter.'  
  
The soldier withdrew slightly, pulling himself straight so that his full height towered over Dumbledore's seated form.  
  
'I will not be present when you discover your assessment is incorrect. You should do something about this now.'  
  
Ginny suddenly shot to her feet, moving closer to the man's form.  
  
'Wait a minute! Are you saying that my husband is dangerous, that he'll deliberately try to hurt or even kill someone?!'  
  
'Are you confident enough to say that he isn't?' the man retorted, throwing Ginny's argument straight back at her. He turned to Dumbledore once more.  
  
'Needless to say Albus, the great Viridian King does not share your optimism regarding this matter. He has already spoken with me privately on this and has expressed concerns about whether or not you are still suitable for the position as headmaster. Having spoken with you myself however, you'll be lucky if the Viridian even allows you to be a game keeper, and I hear that job is not particularly attractive.'  
  
If Dumbledore wasn't shaking before, then he most certainly was now. It all suddenly became clear to Remus exactly why Dumbledore was so afraid. It wasn't due to this man, he was certain Albus could defeat him quite easily in a duel, but it was the person this soldier represented that was the real issue. The Viridian King had sway upon the entire world, so it seemed logical he could pick and choose who he thought able to be headmaster of a mere school. And perhaps it was a threat to whatever Albus wanted to achieve before he retired on his own accord, rather than be disgraced with dismissal. Remus's mistrust of the man was quickly replaced with sympathy. But the soldier had steel for eyes as he bore down on the ageing wizard, and appeared ready to throw something else at him as well, if all that had been said simply wasn't enough.  
  
'On another note, it struck me as rather odd how powerful Mr Potter has become over such a short time. So I did a little extra homework and uncovered this!'  
  
Without warning his wand was out, and he had traced the rectangular form of a book, which solidified and landed with a thud on Albus's desk. Looking down upon it, both Remus and Dumbledore gasped. It was the second book, Heir Yugaal, the book of cascading water. Ginny put her face in her hands and began to cry.  
  
'I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier professor,' Ginny sobbed, tears pouring down her face, 'I found it in Harry's robes when arrived home, and then… then… this man took it from me. Oh please I am so sorry…'  
  
Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief as the soldier bore down triumphantly onto it.  
  
'As our young friend just pointed out, I seized this from her home the moment I realized what it was. I admit I once thought these books a myth, but knowing now that they are fact brings more danger than I believe any of you know. My only conclusion is that Harry used the book for his own ends. He took the knowledge from it and never used it again, but kept it close all the same. His having this would explain greatly why he has gained so much power so quickly. How it came into his possession is none of my concern, but how you came about the others is. Where are they Dumbledore? I know you're hiding them.'  
  
Sitting stone still, Albus glanced up the man in defiance, as though his job was already over and there was no hope left.  
  
'There are four books in total as you know Lieutenant Commander. Passed down as repositories of knowledge from the race that first used Essence. I discovered one of these books buried beneath ground. The book of the wrapping vines. Harry found this one, where I don't know, and Voldemort found one as well. The forth is so far unaccounted for.'  
  
'Really, is that so? Then would you mind showing me this book of the wrapping vines then, while we're all still young?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'No?!'  
  
'The book of the wrapping vines has been stolen…'  
  
Gasps circulated about the room, the Viridian soldier looked as though a vein in his head were about to explode.  
  
'WHAT!!!' the soldier and Remus both shouted in unison, but Dumbledore nodded disdainfully.  
  
'A passerby says they witnessed Luscious Malfoy disappearing through some kind of hole in the air. A means of transportation we're unsure of yet. At any rate, that book too is in the hands of Voldemort.'  
  
The soldier flexed his fingers angrily, grinding his teeth together as though his survival depended on it.  
  
'This is extremely serious Albus,' he spoke simply, retaking his seat, 'But that will be a matter to be dealt with at a later date. Right now I wish to address the main problem at hand. You know what these books are headmaster, do you also know what will happen if Harry does not use them all?'  
  
Dumbledore nodded irritatingly, and the soldier gestured to him to begin.  
  
'Please tell us then Albus, I've no doubt we're all dying to hear.'  
  
Dumbledore looked to Ginny and Remus, mainly at Ginny though, and the look about him was apologetic.  
  
'I'm sorry Ginny, believe me, I am. These books are a series. Therefore, any knowledge gained out of opening one is only partial until it is combined with it's brothers. The very nature of that knowledge however forces you to use the others. If you were only to read one and leave it at that, the sudden rise in your power would not be able to compensate for the lack of knowledge present in the other books. You would go insane, kill everyone around you and finally kill yourself. It's folly to touch these books even, there's no telling what lurks within their pages, and I feel terrible that Harry didn't have the foresight not to open the one he found. Unless Harry is given the other books, he will go insane and die, but I will not willingly give him those books if I could, for if I did, the power would go to his head in ways you cannot imagine despite his best intentions and the situation is the same only worse. A double edged sword is the term to describe it I think. You're dammed if you do and dammed if you don't. I'm sorry I didn't tell you Ginny, I thought somehow I could reverse the effects of the book before it finally took it's toll, but I was wrong.'  
  
Ginny looked to him lost for words, looking thoroughly shocked out, but the soldier just sat there with his arms folded and a smirk across his face.  
  
'Very wise not to give the books to Harry.' He said as Ginny was still gathering herself, 'Probably the only wise thing you've done as of late I would say. Still, there you all have it then. Everything is out in the open so there's no need for secrets. One thing is for certain though, and that is the Viridian will most certainly know of this when I return, and I would very much hate to be in your shoes Albus when he summons you. As for Harry however, the Viridian has already summoned him.'  
  
'He did?!' Remus said incredulously, not quite believing it, but the soldier paid him no mind.  
  
'Our king believes he needs to talk face to face with this young man before any action is taken against him. Sad to say, but it is not on the Viridian's agenda to let loose someone capable of becoming a supreme being. Peace would not last because of it, I'm sure you all understand…'  
  
Everyone looked to each other then, all in apparent mutual understanding, though no one felt willing to say anything, as too much had already been said thus far. But the soldier stood up from his chair and smoothed down his uniform over the multitudes of overlapping scales that made up his armor, before he turned to Dumbledore and started clapping, his mouth wide in another sinister smile.  
  
'You know Albus, it's only just occurred to me to congratulate you. Not only have you hired an angry, vengeful assassin who hates you and is also a Prodigen mage, but you have also got a teacher on your hands who is a threatening psychopath! Well done indeed Dumbledore.  
  
'Well done… indeed.'   
  
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Hi all. Here's chapter 7 done and ready to read. It appears the story is coming along alright so far, good for me. Though it has come to my attention that perhaps some of you aren't reading the chapters thoroughly (as far as I can tell). If you are unsure as to why Dumbledore and Remus are afraid of Harry, then I hope this chapter explains it enough. If you somehow missed it in this as well then... ("Harry Potter used enough magic to wipe this school off the face of the earth three times over, and leave nothing but a crater full of bubbling slag…") -------and also--------- ("the man is a trained Assassin with a short temper, a grudge against you by the sounds of it, and enough magic behind him to wipe out a country per week! Bringing him here doesn't sound very wise to me old man, WHAT IN GOD'S NAME WERE YOU THINKING??!!") I'd say you should all understand now. I don't know, personally I believe I explained it enough in the previous chapters, though I could be wrong. If so and you don't understand what the hell I'm writing about, then I'm sorry, perhaps I'm just not a good writer. Very disheartening. Anyway, I hope this chapter is acceptable enough.   
  
Regards: Richard Flynn 


	8. A New Fight

Chapter 8 – A New Fight  
  
-------------(((FLASH!!!)))-------------  
  
Approximately 3000 years ago…  
  
Lareene stood quietly in the People's courtyard, over looking masses of shining silver roof tops as the morning sunlight slowly began to wash over her home city of Ellyria, the virgin light bathing her in warmth, while her hands folded comfortably together. The city's many silver spires, which numbered beyond comprehension, rose elegantly into the sky, often with their peaks shrouded by cloud as they watched over the land for miles. There seemed something of a grace about Ellyria. It's prestige as being the world capital struck a chord of pride with her at times, as it did every other person who inhabited this place, and that it was the gathering city of the Divine nation leaders, merely served to further her reverence for the silver city and it's people. As her shining blue eyes moved over the multitudes of houses, Lareene smoothed down her long swathing dress…  
  
Sewn and embroidered from the finest of blue silks, it flowed gracefully over the curves of her body to the marble floor tiles at her feet, stretching behind her like an elegant wedding gown… if only it were just that instead of a royal garment, being the daughter of a powerful Divine often made life hard for her at best, and lonely, oh so terribly lonely. Her father; Sean Sei-Tar of Garabon, never seemed to have time for her these days, his title of Divine, coupled with the responsibilities of serving his homeland's interests, always took priority, leaving her alone to whither away like a dying spring bloom. Was that to be the way of it then, to die an unmarried woman? She shuddered at the thought, and held her womb firmly with a cupped hand. She wished so very much for a child, to love and to hold in these peaceful times. Only the lack of a proposal stood in her way, there was certainly no shortage of suitors for her, yet all of them being men of vile character, seeking riches or political ambitions. She wanted love, and the one man she knew felt that way about her was hesitant about proposing marriage, feeling as though he were unable to live up to her expectations, since she was daughter to royalty.  
  
Again she smoothed down her dress, trying not to think of her never ending ordeal. Depression came to her all too easily whenever her thoughts began to wander, so it was all Lareene could do to try and keep her thoughts sharp and strict. But she wasn't like that, and to her discredit she knew it. She was softer than that, and more delicate by far. A ruler's daughter did not feel to be her place in this world. But there was no escape from that, no escape from anything… The hollow beating of air behind caught her attention suddenly, breaking her out of an apparent reverie. A following burst of wind wafted at her back, blowing her curled, brown hair across her face. And for a heart stopping moment, she turned about in a swirl of transparent silk, blue eyes wide and optimistic, her mouth pursed in anticipation…  
  
'Maradin?!' she called hopefully, gazing at the blue robed man who'd landed behind her. The man's giant metal wings that had cast an long shadow over her, slowly pivoted backwards in mechanical sounding motions before the wards binding their energy to the wearer were suddenly removed, the wings disappearing from his back into whisps of lurid white smoke. Lareene waited in hopeful anticipation. For a moment the man did not answer her, until his hands rose to pull back his gold patterned hood, revealing a sly young man, his hair oiled back in the style of Bitaan, and an untrustworthy smile stretched across his unusually handsome face. Lareene's smile left her face immediately, her heart sinking in despair at realizing it was not her love who had arrived in the deserted People's courtyard…  
  
'Not quite,' the man spoke with an air of egotism to voice, un-ruffling his robes from his aerial flight, 'Dear me Lareene, I'm sorry, were you expecting somebody else?' and his vile, black eyes looked down over her body. Lareene only then became painfully aware that she had dressed hoping she would see her love… the silk dress she wore clung to her body like a second skin and was near completely see through! Crimson burst into her cheeks as she held her head high, trying to hold together whatever dignity she had left in front of the man.  
  
'Keep your eyes in their sockets Grindelwald!' she spat at him, making the oiled man pull himself up slightly, no shame whatsoever present on his face, 'You're mother should have taught you some decency when you were a child, it's rude to stare at women you know?!'  
  
Grindelwald gave her a dismissive gesture with his hand, walking a few steps towards her, increasing his presence. Lareene couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated by the man as his rather tall stature loomed over her, nor could she deny feeling uncomfortable around him. The man was as greasy as an oil slick.  
  
'Yes… sure I know that. Many women have told me that when their eyes meet mine.' And he reached out, touching her face as she reeled back in revulsion, 'Of course, none had been so fair as you are Lareene…' his tongue licked his lips disgustingly.  
  
Lareene pulled herself back quickly, before her arm shot out and slapped him across the side of his face, receiving little more than a startled grunt of pain. Grindelwald seized up for a moment as he became inured to the stinging red hand print across his left cheek, before he looked up to her with anger in his eyes.  
  
'Don't be so naïve Lareene.' He spoke scathingly, his voice like acid, 'I know you dress for your lover's eyes. It's just a shame that pitiful excuse for a commoner hasn't got the manhood enough to marry you. In fact, he hasn't even the strength in Essence to stand up to you, did you know that? I wonder how that makes him feel deep down, certainly not warm and fuzzy I'd imagine. You're in for a lonely life yet Lareene, and I'll be watching your slim form every moment of it, don't you think I won't!'  
  
Lareene stood there as Grindelwald shot his mouth off at her, taking every insult as best she could. But it hurt her so much, whether what he said was true or not. Either way however, the man was slime to the core, how she hated him. Desperately, she tried her best to change the subject.  
  
'Tell me Grindelwald, how is your father after all this time? It's been quite a while since I saw him last.'  
  
Grindelwald almost struggled to pull his eyes from her hips, before his face broke into a near wicked smile. It hurt her enough just to see him do that.  
  
'Merlin is fine Lareene… Thankyou for asking. At least he's fine for now, I think he might be losing his grip on reality a little.'  
  
'What do you mean? What have you done to him?!'  
  
Grindelwald shrugged a little, his eyes sidling to his left. He looked… amused.  
  
'Me? I haven't done anything, as hard as you find that to believe. Merlin's just become a victim of his own circumstances, nothing more. He doesn't even know I'm here in fact.'  
  
Lareene turned her back to the grease-ball of a man, just his voice echoed contempt and misery. Though of a sudden she just realized that perhaps it was not quite the ideal thing for her to do, the back of her dress was just as transparent as the front. Another series of blushes overcame her.  
  
'Well, I'm not surprised, you're not supposed to be HERE! In Ellyria! Why aren't you across the channel in Bitaan? I'm sure you're of more use there than you are talking to me here.'  
  
Grindelwald stayed silent for a brief moment. Perhaps he was thinking on that question… but the all too familiar sensation of eyes on her back began to make Lareene believe otherwise. The man had absolutely NO shame! She was tempted to punch him in the nose before the feeling suddenly stopped.  
  
'I thought it worth visiting you Lareene, it would really be a shame not to see you after so long… besides, my presence in Bitaan would be of no use to anyone. Father is here in Ellyria, I thought it best to accompany him, at least to the senate house…'  
  
Lareene swung herself about again, this time a feeling of surprise beginning to seethe within her.  
  
'What?! Merlin is here?' she asked in shock. Grindelwald nodded half heartedly, apparently amused with something else. As bad as the man was, he had a remarkably short attention span, and that felt like cold comfort to her at best.  
  
'Yes he is Lareene… You know… I am rather surprised you weren't already told by someone else. You'd think your own father would have told you something! At any rate, Merlin is not the only one. All of the Divines are here.'  
  
Lareene shook her head in disbelief, putting a hand to her cheek as she tried to figure out how she was left out of something as big as this. The Divines often met with each other over issues relating to the nations they represented and the world in general. But never had all of them conversed were there not great trouble looming, or a very serious matter at hand.  
  
'All of them? Impossible… surely one of them is missing. Moreknair of Lindaria?'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'Err… Cosentine Allan of Sarak?'  
  
'Yes, she's here too.' A small smile began to slide across Grindelwald's face.  
  
'Smenkharis of Zerendul?!'  
  
'Yes, yes and yes. Including my father and yours, that makes all of them. I tell you Lareene, every one of them is here. I still can't get over the fact no one told you, everyone down to commoner level is near buzzing with the news… Perhaps you were so wrapped up with figuring out how much skin you could bare at once that you didn't think to talk to your information advisor. I'm sure you have one of those…'  
  
Lareene pursed her lips angrily, still aghast that she had been left out. Why didn't her father tell her of this? A meeting between all the Divines was a history making event.  
  
'Why? Why are they meeting?' she asked, trying to make sense of it all. Grindelwald arched an oily eyebrow.  
  
'Why? Goodness, you're more out of step with the world than I imagined. There's trouble Lareene. BIG trouble. Something that could possibly tear the Divines apart entirely and bring the world to it's knees. Even now you're at danger of elimination by some unruly faction of society. I'm here to take you to the senate house, the matter will be discussed further there…'  
  
Lareene didn't have so much as time to rebut the point when Grindelwald's metal wings stretched out behind him once more, before he grabbed her with a vice like grip and surged into the air…  
  
-------------(((FLASH!!!)))-------------  
  
Lareene sat quietly in a polished wooden chair as dignitaries and wealthy folk began to fill the conical shaped senate house. Rows of seating laid spread out to accommodate what was certain to be thousands of people, all of them eager to see not only one of the Divines, but all five! Never in Lareene's life had something occurred to make all the Divines meet, so it felt as much to her as an experience as anything else. A hollow buzz of excitement seemed to reverberate around the dome, the seating filling up quickly in a circular shape, something like an amphitheatre, surrounding a rather small rounded space in the center reserved for the Divines themselves. Chatter was incessant, everyone wanted to know what was so important that all the Divines should meet here in Ellyria. Lareene pondered to herself on the matter, not giving so much as a glance when several people passed by and pointed out to her, recognizing her as a daughter to one of the Divines. Perhaps instead they were just curious as to why she was sitting with the people, but she didn't care, she just wanted to know what was going on. She meant to have a very serious talk with her father about all of this after the meeting. How dare he keep something so important from her!  
  
After a while the seats had filled themselves and everybody sat awaiting the call to stand respectfully, and come it did, a delicate chime sounding amidst the crowd, echoing across the senate house's stone walls. In a combined effort, everyone rose to their feet, placing a reverent hand over their hearts as the house's lowest doors opened, admitting a small party composing of three men and two woman, who gracefully made their way to the center of the room, taking rest at specially provided seats, embossed with the coat of arms for each nation. They were the Divines… First was Moreknair of Lindaria, a stern faced woman who appeared to accept little nonsense about things. Wearing robes of deep crimson, she was eye catching in a commanding sort of way. Light seemed to shimmer off her gown from the overhanging skylights above, adding furthermore to her presence. Someone Lareene was happy enough never to met her on the political circuit.  
  
Secondly was her father, Sean Sei-Tar of Garabon. An aging man with tufts of white hair at his temples, he seemed rather forlorn wearing a cloak of grey, scattered embroideries sewn about it to look regal. He seemed rather taken aback by everything, as though he weren't expecting to meet the other Divines. Lareene could only feel a semblance of pity for him, she still felt affronted at having not been told of any of this. Looking across to her father's left, she spied the youngest of the Divines; Cosentine Allan of Sarak. A beautiful young matron reputed to have borne over six children during her brief reign. And yet she looked little more than fifteen years of age. An achievement Lareene herself felt privileged to witness, though rumor had it that she was in fact over twenty years older than she looked. Magic was being used there, she could almost feel it pulsing off her. But there was no law saying a Divine could not be vain in their appearance.  
  
Third across from Cosentine was a handsome man who looked to be in his early fifties. Wearing robes of deep blue, gilt with embroidered patterns of gold and precious metals, Smenkharis of Zerendul took his place at one of the chairs, his ringed fingers tapping impatiently on it's armrests as he looked across from him to the last of the Divines… Merlin Vallei of Bitaan. The oldest and wisest of all the Divines, Merlin was keeper of an empire. Sitting tiredly at his own seat, Merlin's immaculate outfit, embroidered with visions of Phoenixes, shimmered enough to rival Moreknair in every respect. He appeared not to notice however, his aged and wizened face possessing an incredibly long beard of snow white hair, it's tips braided together. Though is appearance seemed to outshine the others who sat about him, all of them silent as though waiting for Merlin to speak the first words. Words of which everyone in the hall was eager to hear.  
  
Raising a wrinkled hand, Merlin made a wafting gesture and the buzzing around the hall ceased as everyone sat themselves down, silence gripping the room as the old mage cleared his throat to speak. A pin hitting the floor could have been heard at that moment.  
  
'Fellow beings…' he began, his old voice seeming to echo powerfully around the hall. 'It comes at great concern that we, the world Divines must convene this day, as matters have arisen that cannot be resolved by one or two of us alone… The situation in my homeland of Bitaan, and the lands of Sarak, Lindaria and the far regions of Garabon, has warranted immediate deferral to us. Some of you may be aware, many of you may not be, but the sovereignty of our lands has hereby been defiled, by an enemy we have come to call Dementari.'  
  
Gasps reverberated around the hall as Merlin took his seat again, flurried whispers racing back and forth. Lareene looked hastily across the crowd and picked out Grindelwald, sitting alone in a far flung corner of the senate house bathed in shadow. A tooth filled smile rose maliciously on his face as he began nodding. Was this the trouble to which he'd been referring? And what were Dementari? Looking back to the center of the room, the crowds had silenced again as the slim, unnaturally beautiful form of Cosentine Allan rose from her seat, her lavender shaded silk robes rising elegantly with her. She filled the air with a hate filled voice that seemed most unlike her appearance, shocking many in the crowd.  
  
'We of the Sarakan republic want answers! This vile enemy of twisted, mindless spirits has raped our lands of all goodness, rich or rare. They strike from the shadows, almost always at night, killing and pillaging wherever they roam. We have lost much, both culturally and industrially to these creatures, whatever they are, and I cannot simply stand by and watch them tear out my own people from under me! They must be stopped immediately for the good of the world, lest we all fall victim to these fiends!'  
  
Across from her, Moreknair rose gracefully from her seat, her crimson robes making almost as much of a show as Cosentine's beauty alone. Her own voice lacked little of her predecessor's venom.  
  
'We of the Lidarian confederacy too have suffered dearly at the hands of these beasts. Thousands already have died without so much as a hand being raised against them, and if what I hear is true, then this is an enemy that is in fact quite well organized, striking at all of us as we remain complacent. It is my wish that the nations unite under a single banner to destroy them henceforth and end this fiasco regardless of unified law…'  
  
Moreknair was suddenly cut off as Cosentine immediately grinded her teeth, fury in her eyes.  
  
'And under whose banner exactly would that be Moreknair?! Yours? I think not, we are quite capable of defending ourselves if we but think on how, there is no need to incorporate "foreign" influences!'  
  
Moreknair gazed scathingly towards the younger Divine at her dismissive intonation of the word "foreign", as though such a thing was inconceivable. The rest of the hall looked down upon them with almost as much anticipation, or fear, at wondering what would happen if these two extremely powerful witches ended up coming to magical blows. Merlin raised his hand once more, urging for calm from the two.  
  
'Divines, please. Some civility if you would be so kind…'  
  
The two witches bit back scathing insults before reluctantly taking their seats, still shooting harrying glances towards each other. Merlin breathed a deep resounding breath.  
  
'It is a situation most dire we can all admit. One of which must be dealt with as soon as possible. My first question, is do these Dementari have any form of weakness? It is folly to fight that which we don't understand.'  
  
The other Divines stared towards the old mage with disparaging looks on their faces. None of them seemed to have any kind of suggestion that could be considered, almost as if the idea of conflict were foreign to them.  
  
'Is it truly necessary to fight them?' Smenkharis spoke suddenly, drawing a thousand eyes towards him. Moreknair and Cosentine looked absolutely outraged at the question, and looked poised to stand once more, halted only by a warning glare from Merlin.  
  
'The Dementari are a significant threat to our way of life Smenkharis,' Merlin said casually, not noticing the crowd's faces that had all now turned to him. 'My own experience of these creatures tells me that we are unable to placate with any of them. Do you suggest otherwise Smenkharis?'  
  
The proud Divine looked to Merlin with a grumble before withdrawing his argument, choosing instead to steeple his fingers as the females began hassling each other over the situation once more.  
  
'All I'm saying is that must think tactfully about this,' Cosentine began, her dress still shimmering in the light of the senate house, 'We must fight them, if only to save our respective empires we must!'  
  
'And how do you propose we do that exactly Cosentine?' Moreknair shot back, looking slightly ruffled as she stared the younger Divine back down into her seat. 'We have no such standing forces capable of inflicting such a blow. Short of having police, these Dementari are a force to be reckoned with. They are an army! One of which we are powerless to destroy unless we unite. Can none of you see? These Dementari are trying to divide us, to make us powerless to stop their advance. Are we simply going to stand by and let them destroy our way of life that we have struggled so hard to create?!'  
  
Around the crowded stands there were numerous murmurings of agreement, several going so far as to nod their approval to the ageing Divine, who also nodded triumphantly at getting her point across. She continued on, the crowd now on her side.  
  
'One question that must be asked is who? Who is responsible for this entire mess? If blame is to be accorded then let us know the culprit henceforth and we shall question him! WHO IS RESPONSIBLE?!'  
  
Moreknair's voice almost seemed to echo around the giant building as the people's curious glares locked onto her, no one seeming to have an answer up their sleeves. There was a sudden gasp then as a chuckling laugh resonated off the walls. Moreknair fearfully turned about to see Smenkharis sitting with his face bowed, a sinuous smile stretched from ear to ear.  
  
'I tried to tell you all but none of you would listen me. No one ever listens to me…' Smenkharis had a dangerous glint about his eye, as he stared up at the representative from Lindaria, something wasn't quite right about him, 'You cannot defeat these creatures my fellow Divines, and it is folly to attempt it. You will all sadly die here as you must as it is I who is responsible for this, and there isn't a thing you can do to stop it!…'  
  
-------------(((FLASH!!!)))-------------  
  
Lareene stood shivering in the faded lights of the Glyph caves, as pained shrieks echoed from the fields above them. Despite her fingers and toes suffering from the rising damp below her feat, she noticed none of it through the harrying struggles of other fellow refugees, of whom, not unlike her, had fled their peaceful existence to the island nation of Bitaan. The enemy, unlike themselves, felt no harm against traversing the distance across the channel in pursuit. And it was that tireless patience that had grinded down the will power of every man, woman and child that huddled fearfully within the improvised cave network, all the while their assailants and those who heeded the call to fight, clashed viciously in combat above ground.  
  
"How could it have come to this?" Lareene asked herself, the very act of thinking now becoming a laborious chore. Not so long ago, but what seemed an eternity before, her life had been irreparably turned upside-down, as revelations came to light that treason of the highest regard had been committed among the Divines themselves. Even Grindelwald, son of the ageing Merlin, had been discovered to have had a large hand in the creation of the Dementari that now plagued the world. Lareene cursed herself for not immediately seeing the young man for the evil scumbag that he was, but there was nothing that could be done about it now. Merlin accused his son of practicing dark magic in the most sinister of ways and was banished without incident, though the damage had already been done. The public had already gone into a fit when they found a citizen had been the cause of so much heart ache, but soon after went insane upon learning that Smenkharis, Divine of Zerendul, had been instrumental in unleashing the Dementari upon the world. These creatures, who quickly became known as "Dementors", took to the human race like an irrevocable cancer, killing and destroying wherever they went… And in the short time since Smenkharis's baleful show of colors, it looked to be that these Dementors would not be swayed easily. That the people were huddling from their aggressors seemed to hone the notion that the human race as they knew it was doomed, and it was only a matter of time before the inhuman beasts converged in numbers, turning attention to them.  
  
A ruthless explosion thundered from the grounds above, bringing waves of fearful gasps amidst the already terrified refugees in the caves. Despite the trembling earth raining small pocket loads of dust upon them, a few skeptical (and indeed foolish) people spoke openly that they expected aerial defenders and supporting aircraft to neutralize the Dementor threat outright. Though Lareene herself held no such naivety about herself, believing quite truly that any hastily scrambled defenders would prove easy meat for the attackers, assuming of course were not already dead. Somehow even that seemed more realistic than believing help was on the way. Looking about at the multitudes of desperate faces, many of her fellow survivors wore pale, exhausted expressions. Some of them still reeled from losses of family members, their own worlds shattered in the blink of an eye. Others looked more determined, even vengeful perhaps, gathering at the mouth of the cave with arms outstretched, prepare to hurl fire at whatever entered without their expressed permission.  
  
It was almost surreal when she thought about it. Though the cave entrance had been blocked off entirely, cruel, scraping noises could be heard through meters of collapsed stone from the other side. A sure sign that the Dementors knew of their presence below the earth, and intended to do something about it… Terrible memories came to Lareene of the panic her fellow Ellyrians had experienced, when mere moments after Smenkharis's sinister tirade, thousands of Dementors had swarmed upon the city with no other motive than to reduce it and it's people to dust. Tears threatened to well in her eyes as she remembered a family whom she'd known well… scared and trapped as they were descended upon and torn to pieces by the mindless animals. It was, sad to say, not that great a difference to other scenes she'd witnessed during the invasion, some of which held far more clarity than this. The screams still haunted her, even now…  
  
What use was it to resist? To hang onto that final scrap of hope until it was spent? In those last fleeting moments of peace, her people had immediately turned to her for guidance, though she wasn't at all sure what it was they saw in her. Perhaps they believed that she was somehow apart from the corrupted anarchy that had overcome the Divines, though the reality of it was that she was in fact the daughter of one, destined to take up her father's seat in the senate… or so she had believed, before all of this. But nevertheless, she felt she'd shown the necessary resolve when she'd evacuated every person she could across the channel to the island of Bitaan. She hidden well over two thousand people in improvised caves since then, and everyone now held out… for what exactly she wasn't sure, but definitely for something.  
  
As the tentative days drew on however, with no word coming from civilization above, and the ever increasing shrieks from rabid Dementors trying to pound their way into the caves, Lareene felt even her own considerable resolve beginning to fade, despite everything she'd done… Supplies were running desperately low, and already people were forced to consume quarter rations or else confer them upon weaker individuals. But was there really any point? Many had already begun to collapse from sickness, magic only being able to do so much when the body yearned to die. Like grains of sand in an hour glass, hope was dwindling at an oppressive rate. You could see it in a person's eyes, hear it in the rasp of their voice, and even feel it as they slowly lost whatever will they had to cast Essence at all. The very nature of the magic made it as precious as life itself. Whichever way you looked at it, time was running out…  
  
A subtle tugging at her robes brought Lareene out of an apparent reverie, not realizing that she'd momentarily slipped into deep thought. Turning about, she saw a young woman who held a rather hesitant look about herself, as if she were to divulge something that may not be acceptable by others. Seeing the pained expression on her face, Lareene knelt closer towards her, trying not be overheard by others who were still trying to contemplate their situation.  
  
'I need to talk to you privately for a moment my lady…' the young woman said, wringing her hands uncertainly.  
  
'Yes of course.' She answered, taking another cautionary look about herself, before being guided into a far more secluded part of the cave network. As she came to a stop near a darkened corner, the woman pulled from beneath her shabby robes what looked to be a clear crystal ball, but immediately Lareene knew it was anything but that.  
  
'What on earth have you got one of those for?!' Lareene hissed in a sharp voice, straining to keep it below a whisper. 'Why didn't you say you had it? There might've been word from the outside!'  
  
The young woman looked to her as if scandalized, but kept her own admonishments to herself as the translucent sphere filled up with a milky white fog. It was in truth a communication device, meant to pick up any form of transmission from other such gadgets. Lareene stared down at it with a feeling of loss, partly for not having asked about it earlier when the Dementor attacks were fiercest. At least then they might have had some clue as to how others were faring on the outside. Though the attacks had ceased a few days back, no one was quite sure whether or not they wanted to leave the caves just yet, in case the enemy was just waiting for them to walk outside.  
  
'It's been silent for a long time my Lady Sei Tar, until this morning. I came to you because I just received this…'  
  
Lareene watched curiously as the white fog began to mold itself into the form of an elderly man. With a long, white beard, and sporting immaculate robes, she knew immediately who it was… Merlin. The pint sized man appeared to be clearing his throat as he prepared to speak, and Lareene inched closer so as to hear him properly. These old glass spheres were anything but reliable…  
  
'Greetings Earth…' the old mage started, forming an odd hand gesture in the shape of a "T", before resting his arms at his sides, 'Undoubtedly, the world has come under the tyranny of hard times, such that has not been seen for many generations. I myself, despite my extended years can ill remember the last time humanity had been so threatened as it is now… however, this does not mean we are to abandon all hope and lose what we have strived to achieve through peace. As it stands the human race is divided. Not only due to our respective borders, but through harsh reality and the interference of our enemies… But being human it is our duty to pull through no matter the cost, and that brings me now to the subject of this address…'  
  
Merlin smoothed down his robes as he gathered himself.  
  
'Our Dementor enemies have been successfully repelled to the far reaches of the known world, and since that time, much has been learned of our most dangerous opponent. They appear to have been attracted on mass to the burning resonance of our Essence. We are in fact, targets wherever we hide, and so as to stave off further attacks, the other Divines and myself have concluded that we are to rebuild our society, without the aid of Essence…'  
  
Lareene almost choked as Merlin's words came to her ears. "Without Essence?!" was he seriously suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? She listened in horror as Merlin's rasping voice continued.  
  
'A method has been devised, by which we shall be processed into two separate castes. There is no telling as of yet how this will affect us, yet we must all feel strong knowing that our skills will still be protected. One caste shall hold onto Creation, the other, Essence. But no longer will the two be used together to aid us again. It is hoped that in time our respective societies will learn to overcome their differences and unite once more, but until such time, we are bound by duty to remove that which attracts our Dementor enemies…'  
  
Merlin's tiny form continued to speak for another few minutes, the whispy image of the mage flickering in the smoky interns of the glass sphere, but Lareene had long since stopped listening… She was shocked, and heaven forbid, she was horrified. Horrified that Merlin, the oldest and wisest of the Divines, would seriously consider casting the human race! Several possible outcomes appeared in her head, but all of them seemed destined to ruin the spirits of those she'd risked life and limb to protect. If she were to tell them, the people would become scared out of their wits, and rightly so. There had only been one such instance in history where part of the species had been caste and it was a terrible failure. Lareene herself had been too young at the time, but she had heard much about how the then ruling Divines had held themselves fully accountable, some taking their own lives from the disaster.  
  
She hated to think of just what would happen when a person's natural processes were irreversibly tampered with to prevent them using one of the two inner strengths. Just the thought sent a shiver down her spine. What would it be like to only have Essence? To be able to perform magic whilst retaining no knowledge of logic, the ever so important trait of Creation. Or perhaps the other way around. What would it be like to have logic, and create beautiful architecture, whilst retaining to ability whatsoever to wield magic? She couldn't tell which of the two would be the worse outcome, each possibility was horrifying in it's own way. However, as being the "leader" amongst these people, it was her responsibility to make the difficult choice of whether or not to tell them of this shocking development. To tell them that after having run for their lives from an enemy bent on extermination, their own rulers would be so drastic as to destroy that which made each and every person unique inside.  
  
All her efforts seemed wasted when she imagined her fellow refugees finally walking outside expecting rescue, only to receive a far more grim reception. And that, she could not let happen, not after everything that had transpired… She lost track of how long she spent contemplating this, but after what seemed an eternity, she made the decision that despite her better judgment, she would tell her people precisely what was in store for them should they leave the safety of the caves. Besides, there was no real telling whether or not the Dementors had been pushed back everywhere. For all anyone knew, there could be thousands still outside the caves just waiting to make their move. Despite being driven by morbid instincts, the Dementors seemed extremely intelligent… a horrible combination. But how would she tell her people the sad truth? They were dammed to death if they stayed, but if they left, their children would grow up dammed themselves, some being able to perform rudimentary magic, others being unable to produce a spark. Why should they be forced to incur such a terrible punishment?… Lareene closed herself off from everyone as she thought deeply on what she was meant to do…  
  
-------------(((FLASH!!!)))-------------  
  
Lareene stood proudly overlooking a thousand noisy people as she tried to reason with them precisely why they should not leave the cave system. Understandably, her news that Merlin himself planned to split the human race in two had sent shockwaves throughout the already beleaguered people. Riots had practically begun out of it, and it was proving more and more difficult to keep the disorderly mob from being openly aggressive. It never used to be like this in the senate when the Divines ruled the populous. Oh no it wasn't. It was republican attitudes all the way, and there was a limit to how much people were allowed to speak their mind. Here though, EVERYONE wanted their say, even if it was by no means helping their situation. Sadly though, discussion had turned from leaving the caves, to which of the two inner strengths was the best to get rid of. Already people had given up the possibility of another option.  
  
'NEVER!!! I'd rather die than have Essence taken away from me!' shouted a balding man, who lost some of his teeth. 'They're practically defiling us! Can't you people see?!'  
  
'Essence?! PAH!' retorted an elderly lady from elsewhere in the milling crowd of people, 'What about creation?! I don't think I'd survive without my creativity. You can all go about levitating things as long as you want, but it's Creation that built our world from it's foundations up. Culture, art, all that… you know, civilized stuff!'  
  
Others amongst the crowd of people below Lareene's iron gaze nodded their approval, others merely sidled nearby wearing scowls on their faces at the woman's opinion, not really giving any real input. But every now and then there was an argument, and tempers would flare to the point where magic became an issue of concern, and both parties had to be calmed before talks on he matter could be continued. Always people would debate over which loss would be greater to society; Essence, or Creation.  
  
Soon enough it had become apparent that people were naturally forming themselves into two loosely knit groups, those who supported removing Essence, and those bent solely on seeing Creation tossed out the window. The more aggressive people of this group had begun coining a rather offensive term for those so called Creation loving fools; "Mudbloods!" Quite simply the situation was getting out of hand, and Lareene watched almost helplessly as people began eyeing each other threateningly and gnashing their teeth. Outright brawling would begin if something wasn't done soon.  
  
Putting on the sternest face she could muster, she slammed her fist down forcefully on the hastily erected podium she was standing behind, and for a brief moment the arguing masses forgot each other and eyed her curiously, as though seeing her for the very first time.  
  
'Have some sensibility about yourselves please! Are we civilized or not?!'  
  
Looking about her, some people lowered their heads shamefully, the comment driving home better than Lareene could possibly have hoped for. Using the opportunity to straighten her sensually transparent robes, she took in her companions with a disappointed stare before trusting the leader within herself. This situation required a cool head to sort things out, though she wondered how she could possibly feel so calm when she thought about exactly what it was she was about to propose. Her people might chose never to trust her again if this turned out badly…  
  
'Look at yourselves…' she spoke remorsefully, putting as much emotion as she could into her voice, 'Take a VERY good look at yourselves. You've already given in to Merlin's edict! Are you truly trying to convince me that you're all willing to sacrifice one of your inner strengths just because of what one man thinks is best for us, because he thinks that is what's luring the Dementors?! '  
  
The majority of people stayed silent, perhaps looking within themselves to find exactly what their true feelings on the matter were, but here were some who vented displeasure, shouting out at her from below.  
  
'What choice do we have?!' one young man spoke above his fellows, drawing a thousand eyes towards him, 'Merlin is the wisest of all the Divines, and he has never led us astray before!'  
  
A couple of people nodded, as Lareene forced herself to remain self composed, preparing to counter the young man's foolish attempt to dislodge her.  
  
'Need I remind you that Merlin himself IS indeed a Divine?! And human might I just add. Are none of you aware that previous Divines have tried this scheme before? The human race suffered terribly because of it, and it was all because someone the world thought knew everything, had made a really bad mistake…'  
  
Lareene took a calming breath to emphasize her point, holding the attention of the audience with remarkable efficiency.  
  
'You all know me,' she began again, her voice lowered so you had to stay silent to hear, 'And all of you know what I'm about as well. I make no secret of the fact I am Lareene Sei-Tar, only daughter of Sean Sei-Tar, revered Divine of Garabon… Sadly, due to the power my father wields, I've been unable to find love, save for those who seek little more than power and glory themselves. Hence, I am lonely, and have wanted ever so much to have children of my own for many years…'  
  
She paused to let her words take affect on the crowd. No one in the royal family had ever spoken to her people so honestly, she wanted to impress upon them that the Divines and their offspring were as human as anybody else. It worked well, many stood dumbstruck with their mouths hanging open in surprise, curious by this sudden turn of events. Lareene used this confusion to her advantage, hardening her face to her usual regal stature. Her voice followed suit, becoming as strong as steel so as to deflect any possible criticisms for her truthfulness.  
  
'However! Seeing the defeated looks on all your faces makes me wonder why I would want to raise a child in this world at all. If you all go ahead with this scheme of Merlin's, not only will you be forsaking the identity of yourselves, but your children will suffer as well! None of them will have the privileges we all had from using Essence and Creation together. They'll be forced to use one or the other, without having the choice for themselves. It will be ingrained into their genes and there won't be a thing ANY of us can do to reverse it!'  
  
People looked about themselves in alarm at having overlooked such an obvious flaw in Merlin's great plan, and several looked absolutely certain to change their minds without hesitation. Lareene continued, pressing her hold over her audience.  
  
'Of course, this leaves us in a most dire predicament… Should we choose to leave this shelter of ours now, even if Merlin spoke the truth of our Dementor enemies being destroyed, we will have no choice but to accept the Divine's decision and suffer it's consequences… However, if we do not, we will remain here. Food will slowly run out and we will all inevitably die, having accomplished nothing…'  
  
'Then what are you suggesting Lady Sei-Tar?' called a voice from the anxious crowd, who all began muttering furiously amongst themselves. This was it, Lareene had been preparing for this moment. Everything came down to how well her idea was received.  
  
'My argument here is simple, and my decision even more so… I believe that I cannot achieve anything by groveling at Merlin's feet. Nor do I feel so naïve as to think I can lead a fruitful life without having one of my inner strengths, whether it be Essence or Creation… To me at least, it is obvious that casting the human race will lead to misery and despair that is worse than death a hundred times over, and I pity all of you out there who thought otherwise. Personally, I would rather die here among you than succumb to Merlin's mad ambition…'  
  
She cast her eyes over the crowd, their faces masks of surprise as the words continued to flow from her mouth, ebbing emotion and concern of the highest regard.  
  
'I may not be a mother, but I can see from a mothers point of view exactly what we risk losing if we surrender ourselves. And that, I'm afraid, is something I will not tolerate… What I plan to do may indeed shock you to the core, but I believe that it's better than the alternative. I will caste myself personally! Not of one of the inner strengths, but of BOTH!'  
  
A gasp of horror reverberated around the cavernous interior as people looked to her as if she were a rabid dog. What's more, is that she knew this was going to happen, she'd anticipated it. Her idea had never been attempted before, much less conceived. But she was not done yet, as a self casting without anything further would be absolutely pointless.  
  
'Furthermore, it is my wish that the inner strengths I hold within are to be sealed away for all time. It is clear to me now that I will never wed or bare children of my own, and since Merlin seems so desperate to tear our civilization asunder, I will do my utmost to preserve our way of life in it's entirety, so that one day, future generations may benefit and rebuild our society… To accept anything less is not only futile, but HERESY! And I will not stand for it… Who amongst you will make this same sacrifice? Who will join me?'  
  
Silence gripped the caves as Lareene concluded her momentous speech. People stood stone still with hands hanging loosely by their sides, shocked into inactivity. Their children, some still clutching onto their mother's skirts, held their silence, taken in by the crowd's collective trance. Few had been expecting this. The possibility had seemed beyond comprehension to anyone, and few believed Lareene was serious until they saw the stony expression plastered across her face. Only then did the realization hit, yet even so, no one moved a muscle. No one dared say a word.  
  
Catching a brief flicker of movement from the corner of her eye, Lareene saw an old man nodding from a darkened corner. His hair was white and his eyes had taken on a grey tinge, indicating a long history of using Essence and Creation. But the look about him was of cold, hard certainty, and a faith in the young woman that couldn't be shaken.  
  
'Aye…' he spoke quietly, a strong Bitaani accent present in his voice, 'You speak the truth lass. I have lived with the two inner strengths for a length of time that this younger generation cannot seem to grasp. And I would never prevent my children from attaining the privileges I've had for so long. I will join you.'  
  
He stepped forwards, placing a hand over his heart as a sign of his loyalty. Lareene greeted him with a comforting hand on his shoulder, knowing that she was not alone in her decision.  
  
'So will I!' shouted a voice from the crowd, a young man in his mid twenties stepping forward. 'For the honor of our culture, I will join you.'  
  
'As will I…' spoke another.  
  
'And I…',  
  
'Me too…'  
  
'I'll join you…'  
  
And before she knew it, hundreds were competing with each other to aid in Lareene's cause, seeing as she did that to venture outside would be pointless. She'd never felt so alive in her life, perhaps she would've made a good leader some day, had none of this happened. But her mission now seemed clear. It was her sacred duty to preserve society as she knew it, and if that meant destroying herself entirely so that later generations may benefit, then so be it, the price would be worthwhile…  
  
-------------(((FLASH!!!)))-------------  
  
Lareene sat silently on stone as the air about her began to writhe with translucent energy, a cold sweat beginning to pour from her face as every cell in her body pulsed in time with her heartbeat. A concentration the like of which she'd never previously known coursed through her mind, as she psychically channeled the inner strengths of everyone inhabiting the cave network, into a series of lusciously bound books. Through her contemplation, recording the laws and ways of manipulating Essence and Creation seemed best done if infused into paper. And so it was, that the scribes amongst them set to work with whatever materials they had available, and produced a compilation of literary art… And they had spared no expense, as they too believed as Lareene did, that her course of action was the only true way out. Within the pages of these four books were volumes upon volumes of written information, detailing the precise nature of the two inner strengths. They were a manual, custom designed to preserve a way of life. Only Lareene's input now remained, the power within her feeling like a river of overwhelming energy.  
  
Around her, several others watched on silently as their young queen pulled within her the power present in everyone living in the caves. Though the Essence and Creation were impossible to see as they whipped through the air, Lady Sei-Tar's seductively curved body shone radiantly with magical power. One would be blinded to look upon her directly, such was the light shining off her now alabaster skin. There was so much uncertainty about the people regarding this radical plan of hers, but deep down, Lareene's heartfelt speech had driven within them a sense of pride and holy duty, that they could not help but trust the young maiden entirely. Every so often a word of concern would pass between the watching onlookers, their numbers growing as Lareene's hopes began to come to fruition.  
  
'Do I understand this correctly Jovis?' a young man spoke to his friend next to him, 'These books will hold everything about us? Our thoughts, memories, and power?'  
  
His ageing friend next to him nodded with pride as he looked upon the gloriously powerful maiden, her hair now beginning to rise in psychically induced pulses.  
  
'Yes,' he answered promptly, shielding his eyes from the intense light, 'These books are the epitome of everything we have achieved. No matter if someone has been caste, they need only look upon the pages to become as we once were. The greatest civilization on Earth…'  
  
The younger man's chest swelled with pride as he took in Jovis's enriching words, though something seemed amiss to him.  
  
'But what if someone only reads one of the books? Erm… What will happen then?'  
  
Reluctantly pulling his eyes from their queen, Jovis looked to his friend with a knowing stare.  
  
'Lady Sei-Tar anticipated that something like that might happen, so she took steps. Should someone read just one or two, perhaps even three, the lack of knowledge only present in all the books will drive the reader insane. They would die, put simply. Of that there is no denying. Our lady was quite clear in her expectations for these books. We will pass on our ENTIRE civilization, but should we do otherwise, we would be no better than Merlin himself. To think, that barmy old man dared to split our people in two! Bah!'  
  
Jovis returned his gaze to Lareene, who's eyes were rolled up into her head as the rampant energies about her began to thicken in the air like a clogging fume. No one standing about her could have any idea what kind of ecstasy flowed through the woman's veins at this moment, but some licked their lips in anticipation. All the while sparks began to form around her, a seemingly non-existent wind grasping at the hair of her watchers… Almost time…  
  
Emerging from a darkened corner, a lone scribe stepped forth towards the beautiful woman, descending to his knees. In an almost symbolic gesture, he stretched out his hands and opened each of the four books one by one, revealing within them untold amounts of miniscule, rolling text, before he gracefully stepped backwards, retreating into the shadows once more… Lareene's eyes retreated from the top of her skull and looked down upon the elegantly bound books of gold, silver and countless precious stones. Somewhere beyond the overwhelming power wrought within her head, she felt that these would indeed be a worthy method of handing down their power. She still felt incensed by Merlin, the nerve that old man had. Stretching her hands over the meticulously bound books, she concentrated with all of her remaining strength, her mind becoming one with the pages bared before her. A collective intake of breath sounded around, as the ever increasing multitudes of people peered closely at her…  
  
A coarse, wailing noise suddenly shrieked in the still air, and without warning she suddenly lifted from the ground, hovering upwards until she rose above her people, the books zipping about her like huge, winged insects, spinning upon their axes. Gasps reverberated about the cavernous space as the refugees marveled at the level of energy passing through Lareene like a conduit. This was precisely what she had promised them. Though this had never been attempted before, Lareene seemed remarkably attuned as to what was expected of her, and had prepared herself physically and mentally for the task. Now her long, arduous process was about to be completed, and the knowledge and power that had been pulled from each and every one of them like a squeezed sponge was on the verge of transferring from her unto the pages of the books, where they would be sealed away for generations until someone uncovered them all, and rejuvenated their civilization again.  
  
Tension had reached fever pitch, as the crowds stood watching, slack jawed and in awe at the spectacle taking place, before Lareene, shining with psychic energies, screamed out in one final burst of strength before beams of white hot power burned from her hands onto the virgin pages of the levitating books, searing the text red with flame… It almost seemed like all life was sucked out of the room as the energy rippled in the air before being warped and pulled up into the books like a vacuum. A howling wind swirled about as her body twisted and contorted in the air, her hands bonded to the books by magical beams. Only the shrieking sounds of her screams seemed to convey to the masses what was happening.  
  
For what seemed an eternity, unearthly power raged through Lareene's straining body, burning away at each page of the four books one after another, until slowly but surely, the massive volumes completed, each closing up on itself and falling to the stone floor with an audible thud. It was only at this moment, when all four of them laid smoldering, did the mystical energies surrounding Lareene finally collapse upon themselves, and she fell from the air, crashing to the floor to the sound of terrified screams from onlookers.  
  
'MY LADY!!!' several yelled out to her in concern, as Lareene laid crumpled on the cold, stone floor… Rushing to her aid, a boy of twelve lifted her up off the ground to the sound of a coarse groan, Lareene's eyes flickering open tiredly as sparkling tears began to flow down her crimson cheeks.  
  
'I did it…' she spoke groggily, trying to coordinate herself once more. Other people joined her, placing comforting hands on her shoulders and wiping her sweaty forehead with damp cloths. None lost faith in her as the young woman's strength slowly began to return, and after a few tense minutes, Lareene managed to get to her own feet in a rather forced manner, despite a few caring souls urging her to rest for just a little while longer… With a person helping to support her weight, Lareene cast her gaze across the now enormous following she'd gathered, meeting the curious stares of onlookers as she waited for some effect to what she had done. It seemed the right thing to do, as no one had ever attempted to separate a person from both their inner strengths. People it seemed, were relying solely on faith… one that was unshakable and invested in her. Stubborn pride swelled within her at the achievement, but she held her breath nonetheless, feeling that something was not quite right…  
  
'Is… everyone… ok?' she asked tentatively, taking in everyone around her. There was a mixture of shaking heads and shrugged shoulders as people looked about themselves, not quite certain what to expect. The crowd truly had not anticipated what might happen through this process, but seemed to stop breathing as well, studying the withered expression spread across Lareene's youthful face. And for a moment the young woman released a breath of relief, feeling a calmness overcome her that she thought she had lost an eternity ago… But the reprieve was short lived, as a blood curdling shriek echoed from beyond her vision, the powerful beating of her heart suddenly threatening to pound out of her chest entirely. Something was wrong…  
  
Clearing a path through the swollen crowd, Lareene shouldered her way past people desperately trying to run the other way, their movement symbolic of an expanding ripple of water. As the number of people thinned, she came upon the disturbance and could make out the figure of a young woman draped in shadow, crouched and clutching vainly at her chest… Lareene couldn't overcome her horror at the sight, the young, fledging woman before her writhing with pain, her mouth wide open in constricted agony, screams flowing from her in an unending tide.  
  
She yearned to help the poor soul, to reach out to her in some way and relieve her pain… but when she attempted to touch her, the woman reacted violently, trying to bite at her, even as her body convulsed in pain induced spasms. Her skin slowly began to change color, a mottled, grey texture overcoming her previously perfect exterior. Sounds of wickedly twisting bones and ligaments filled the air as the her limbs seemed to extend upon themselves, vicious looking claws growing out of her fingers as her joints were simultaneously dislocated and reintegrated to accommodate the radical change to her body's cellular structure… What was happening to this woman?  
  
Lareene took tentative steps backward, shaking her head in denial as the unnamed female's screaming intensified in her ears, mingling every so often with coughs of latent, gurgling blood.  
  
'No…' she whispered quietly to herself, tears threatening to overcome her at the sight, 'This is not possible… this is NOT possible!'  
  
She had to escape… she had to leave this madness! Already people around her began passing accusing looks in her direction, knowing that she was responsible for this. But she knew that her intentions were justified, even though her fellow's were slowly losing their faith in her…  
  
Another strangled scream echoed from the other end of the cavernous interior and she spun around on her heels, searching for the source of the noise through her own panting breaths, before another sounded elsewhere, and another, and another, and ANOTHER! Pandemonium broke out, and people began running madly in all directions, even as one by one they began to fall, clutching insanely at their bodies as a horrible series of mutations began to overcome them.  
  
Lareene ran… dodging past people as they begged her for help, their hands cracking and snapping in seizures even as they reached out towards her, bones growing and realigning themselves into terrible forms that mimicked the talons of eagles. The awful look apparent in their eyes served only to spurn her pace, grotesquely clawed hands tearing mercilessly at her robes. She took in none of it, desperately trying to block off the horrible screams from her mind, even as her eyes witnessed veins bulging from the necks of innocent children who hung perilously to their twitching mothers, who shook and shuddered in violent contractions… It almost felt surreal as Lareene stopped running from the pain and agony that was occurring everywhere around her. She couldn't look in a single direction without seeing horrible chaotic monstrosities emerge from what were once human forms. How could this have happened?…  
  
A sudden thought struck her as she stood rooted to the spot, feeling almost unable to move away from the carnage around her. Turning her head about to the cleared out podium at the other end of the cavern, she saw the smoldering shapes of the four magically infused books lying mournfully on the floor, choking and spluttering people frantically trying to reach them at a forced crawl, their bodies unrelenting in their change even as they extended their arms out to undo what had been done to them. Lareene only then became aware of the entities of Essence and Creation that had finally begun to leave her. She would soon be next in the terrible change, though she would not shift her resolve an inch, the two inner strengths MUST be preserved for the future. Quickly she bolted towards the podium, delivering a sharp kick to a rabid man who leaped out in front, attempting to tear at her with long, serrated teeth. The mutation crumpled to the floor with a wail of pain as Lareene ran on, pushing the shapes of warped corpses out of her path as she focused on the four books.  
  
A hideously altered beast, what appeared to have been the old man who had first supported her, finally reached the book that had been named "Heir Yugaal", lifting it with unnaturally long fingers, one half of his face flexing in delight as cruel, blade-like teeth began to grow from his expanding jaws. Lareene came upon him with her arm stretched in a flowing wide arc, the creature's startled screech being but a moment's reprieve as her splayed hand delivered a deadly bolt of blue lightening to it's chest, hurling it across the floor in whisps of stench filled smoke… Another man, his eyes rolled up into his head, flew at her from nowhere whilst his skin began to melt over his bones, only to be tripped up as Lareene weaved coils of air about his feet, planting him face first into the ground.  
  
The scene was absolute madness as horrid creatures that still bore semblances of humanity began to prey on those who had not yet changed, all the while Lareene held her own at the podium with the four books clutched to her chest, delivering smaller and smaller bursts of magic to aggressors as Essence dwindled in her to little more than a shallow spark. She didn't know how much longer she could hope to repel the monstrosities, as she felt the lustrous feel of Essence be slowly pulled from her grasp. But she would not yield the books, EVER! They must be preserved for the future at all costs, and she intended to keep it that way, even if she must resort to using her bare hands…  
  
Hence, the horror she experienced was paramount when a deep churning rumbled within her stomach, constricting her insides. Immediately she fell to the floor, still clutching vainly to the books as her free hand flew to her abdomen. A coarse scream left her mouth as pain of unbelievable levels shot through every cell in her body, making her skin feel as if it were on fire. Looking terrified towards her hand, jolts of ravaging pain tore through her as her bones began to grow, long blade-like claws extending from her fingernails. Her skin began to mottle to a stomach writhing grey as it tightened over her muscles, the long webs of arteries pulsating beneath…  
  
Nothing in her life could have felt near comparable to this torturous experience, and before long her very senses became washed away by the pain as she fell to her knees, her body being assailed by changes she could not possibly contemplate… Whether by her will or not, she knew she held too little Essence to attempt to hold back the changes that were now tearing apart her body piece by piece. She could feel nothing in her body as she flexed and contorted spasmodically onto the floor, coughing up blood in surges that splattered against the stone… Nevertheless however, she kept her hold on the books firm and tight, even as other mutated forms began to crawl over her, attempting to pry the volumes from her hands.  
  
It was only when life itself seemed destined to leave her completely, did she focus what remaining strength she had onto the sole, ever convincing thought that had pulled her through panic and terror combined, leading her to this point…  
"I've done the right thing… the RIGHT thing!"  
  
-------------(((FLASH!!!)))-------------  
  
Harry awoke in a void of near total darkness, cold beads of sweat crystallizing on his brazen forehead… Fighting back his rasping pants, he sat up uneasily, taking in his surroundings with the aid of his Essence enhanced vision, his eyes catching on features as he gazed around himself. He was in his bedroom… Looking around, he stared in curiosity at the stone room's ornate architecture, silently watching the figures of paintings who'd extinguished their lights and sat sleepily in their golden frames, completely oblivious to the man who sat up half uncovered by his sheets, his chest exposed to the cold, castle air.  
  
Suppressing a shiver, he melded his thoughts with the air particles around him, which began to increase their warmth at a comfortable rate. Only when the air felt warm and inviting did he throw back his sheets and step out onto the soft rugs beneath him, it's cotton bristles caressing the soles of his feet… He felt odd, and a little hungry despite this. Perhaps the house elves would be accommodating to him at this early hour of the morning. Instinctively he turned to his bedside clock, it's digital display showing the time as 3.15am. Not a time he enjoyed waking at, though he should have felt privileged, his time outside the castle had seen him wake many hours before three in the morning. Tiredly he rubbed his eyes, before casting his gaze across the other side of his bed, which moved slightly to a drowsy groan.  
  
Ginny laid curled up beneath the warm blankets, comfortably snuggled with her head against the dowered pillow. Lighting the room ever so slightly, Harry watched with rapture as it made her hair shine with a deeper radiance, even as it splayed elegantly over the bed sheets. A familiar feeling of being lost in her presence washed over him, even as she slept oblivious to her husband's admiration of her. He was certain he didn't deserve such a beautiful woman as his wife, and he reminded himself of how many years he'd spent away from her. Such a long time it had been. But such memories only induced thoughts of precisely why he had been away for so long, and he stared down at his open stretched hand with a grimace, momentarily forgetting his seductive wife.  
  
Essence… the word seemed to hold a far more sinister meaning to him now in light of this "dream" he'd had, if it really was that. Perhaps it had been a vision… of the future? No… it couldn't have been, it must have been from the past, it felt old… but furthermore he felt as though he'd been there himself, as if he were seeing it through another's eyes… Yes… If however, everything in it were true, then using Essence in his own partial fashion was not only dangerous, but lethal! Was insanity a possible outcome? Would he turn upon his wife and child in a flurry of Essence induced rage? The idea sent a shiver down his spine, and he looked once more to Ginny, who had stirred a little and turned over to face him, though still soundly asleep. She seemed so peaceful lying there, it tugged at Harry's heartstrings. Nothing but the presence of his wife and child made him happy anymore, they truly were all he had. He couldn't imagine exactly how he would react should he lose them.  
  
It came then as a stark realization when he remembered the ever growing entity that had consumed his mind. It's voice sinisterly pushing him to kill, as he'd done so often before, even if he was in the presence of children… His earlier episode in class had caused quite a stir indeed, and he was fearful now that he may lose his job as Defense teacher. All that time he had been pushed and nudged by the enigmatic voice residing in his head. At first he had thought that Voldemort had been responsible, trying once more to manipulate his actions. But it looked different now, and for the first time in many years he felt a sudden jolt of fear, as he realized that it was in fact Essence that had manipulated him, twisting the thoughts of his mind because he had not absorbed the entire series of books…  
  
There were four, scattered about the world. One he knew for certain he himself had used, another was dreadfully in Voldemort's hands. Where other the remaining two were he felt at a loss, there was no telling where they were, or even if they still existed… Something in his heart told him they did, as if it were some innate feeling of his that laid dormant within. Having resisted the terrible voices in his head for so long, he'd ignored the increased presence of them, as well as the primitive desire to seize Essence by the throat and expend himself at his full potential. An act that he knew would most certainly lead to his death, having only read one of the four books himself…  
  
Turning to leave for Hogwarts extensive kitchens, he came to a conclusion when he shot his wife a last fleeting look… There was no choice about it anymore. He could not believe that he was capable of safely using Essence without absorbing the entirety of it, and that as it was, he was more dangerous now to innocent people than ever. Soon enough, he would go mad, and not even his powerful determination would be able to stop himself committing an act he would deeply regret. He might not even retain the sanity to feel regret, an outcome that felt even worse to him…  
  
What felt obvious however, was the deep seated need he now felt. Whether it was because of his vision, or whether it was due to his own intellect, he knew now that there was something that could possibly tear the entire world asunder. For the moment he pushed the dark lord Voldemort to the far reaches of his mind, as he developed within him a new fight that must be undertaken immediately, for the safety of his wife and child at the very least. No matter how much it cost him, he had no choice now but to find the books…  
  
All four of them…  
  
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Hello everybody, hasn't it been a while since I updated?! Sorry for that, I'm in the midst of serious school exams. Nevertheless, despite that I've managed to write this chapter for all of you and it should explain much from this story's predecessor. Now you should know precisely the origins of Essence as well as the books, even Grindelwald, and I hope you find it interesting. Anyway, I must go, I need to study for my next text. Now that I've continued the story, I'll give you all another chapter in a lot less time than it took me to create this one, so don't worry. Happy reading.  
  
Regards: Richard Flynn  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. The Daily Menace

Chapter 9 – The Daily Menace

Four weeks later…

Harry slowly scaled the tall, shoddily built tower, it's numerous wooden steps making odd creaking noises beneath his feet as he climbed. Somewhere above him, he could hear the familiar rumbling of an impatient crowd, their frenzied shouts eagerly anticipating the start of Hogwarts first Quidditch match of the year. Despite being quite preoccupied with other matters of concern, he felt something similar to eagerness within himself, it had afterall, been many years since he'd last played a game, and thus looked forward to the match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Rumor had it however that rules had since changed slightly to incorporate muggles into the sport, though seeing as a broomstick required a person with magic to operate, he struggled to figure out just how they would participate.

Emerging out onto the observation deck, he took in the grand sight of the Quidditch pitch in all it's vaulted glory, the green expanse of grass making him feel as though his own Hogwarts experience was just yesterday, rather than a fond memory. As usual, the field's oval stands were filled to capacity with ecstatic students, cheering and waving their numerous team banners in a hypnotizing display of color, and it was all he could do not to be taken in again by the excitement of it all. Had it really been so long since he'd flown a broom?

Noticing his arrival, a dozen early comers in robes and pointy hats yelped in alarm, and quickly vacated their seats to him like an expanding tidal wave. Harry didn't bother trying to console them, he'd been reacted to with fear more than once since he'd levitated that girl in class. He had begun to regret that a lot lately… Whilst the other people crowded uneasily along the sides the tower, Harry tucked his robes up beneath himself before sitting comfortably in a prime position, having at least three meters distance to the next person. He supposed ignorant fear had some advantages afterall, and smiled, conjuring himself a small bucket of popcorn as his attention turned to the far end of the pitch, where soon enough students on broomsticks would be zipping out. He wished he was down there himself.

As the majority of people took their seats, a shallow, crackling noise came over the old fashioned speakers, when a student commentator began tapping his finger against the microphone. The crowd's milling uneasiness calmed a fraction as attention was turned to him.

'LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!' the young boy began in a thunderous voice, his robes baring the bright yellow and black sigil of Hufflepuff. 'Today marks the very first day of Hogwarts Quidditch cup. Our two teams are prepared and eager for what will undoubtedly be another great year of competition.'

A bright, holographic screen suddenly materialized from projectors about the pitch, forming a table of Ravenclaw team members. A series of ooh's and ahh's reverberated around the field as Harry cast his eyes down the list, reading the statistics regarding each player of Ravenclaw. All of them were wizards as far as he knew, he couldn't see a single witch on the Ravenclaw team… most surprising.

As the blue and white team listing disappeared, it was replaced by the familiar maroon and yellow color scheme of the Gryffindor chart, where Harry saw his daughter's pretty young face laughing and smiling along with her peers. Her stats suggested she was a very efficient Chaser in her own right, and had been chosen for the team based on incredible performance during practice. Her worst position however, was Seeker, of all things! Harry felt a little disappointed that his own daughter hadn't inherited that old skill of his, though he'd reserve that opinion until after he'd seen her play. He was still quite happy that Genevieve had made a name for herself in the team at such a young age. According to his knowledge, first years didn't normally make the teams, at least, that was until he came. Everything after that had just seemed one giant blur, there was no telling what changes had occurred since then. Even stranger still, he noticed some of the Ravenclaw team members were muggles, and had a large red slash in the small box next to their names labeled: broomstick.

'RAVENCLAW!!!' shouted the commentator, his voice rumbling across the wooden stands. A tumultuous roar sounded from the opposing end, as the stadium was suddenly invaded by seven speeding blurs of white and blue… Overlooking the broom riders, Harry focused his sharp eyesight on the muggle players, who swooped and did aerial loops on strange, "W" shaped hover boards that were fastened to their feet. Each emitting elegant trails of pure white smoke as they traversed the crowd at breakneck speed, proving highly agile with their swift and sudden turns amongst their home supporters. Harry felt glad he hadn't come up against anything like this during his own Hogwarts days, believing that these things could quite easily better a broom rider if applied with enough skill.

'What on earth are those things?!' Harry muttered to himself in an awed voice, unable to shake off his disbelief.

'Those are Air Sprites…' spoke an elderly voice to his left.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as he became aware of Dumbledore sitting next to him, wearing a rather odd assortment of garments that looked to have been stored in a cupboard for several years.

'What the… I mean, where did you… how did you do that?!' Harry spluttered in surprise, his heart beating a mile a minute. To his astonishment the old man simply chuckled, rubbing his hands together to get warm.

'You'll find Harry, that age is no limit to how many surprises I still have up my sleeves, for instance…' and he tugged quickly at a small nylon chord extruding from beneath his conical shaped hat, before small people riding broomsticks suddenly popped out of it's top and began flying around his head to a "whizzing" noise.

Harry pulled back slightly in revulsion as the miniature broom riders chased each other with beater clubs. Any ordinary person may have found it funny, though Harry thought the entire set up was highly immature… Perhaps however, he'd just lost his sense of humor.

'I would've thought you'd have grown out of that kind of thing professor.' Harry exclaimed disdainfully to the old man. Dumbledore gave a non committal shrug.

'Yes, well… you know me, always trying to be at the forefront of teenage entertainment.'

'That wasn't a compliment Albus.'

Dumbledore looked to Harry wearing a slight frown, but quickly turned his attention back over the pitch, to where the Gryffindor team had flown out to meet their opponents, Maroon and yellow robes fluttering in the wind. The few muggles on the team opting instead for their own style of clothing, that permitted more freedom of movement.

'This is your daughter's first Quidditch match isn't it Harry?' Dumbledore spoke, his gleaming eyes centered on a young girl of reddish, black hair, hovering idly above the pitch. Harry looked to her for a moment before nodding.

'You certainly don't miss much, though I don't know how much experience she has. This is the first time I even considered she could make a Quidditch player. You can understand that there have been more pressing matters for me to deal with.'

Albus grunted affirmatively, his gaze flickering about from player to player.

'Yes Harry, I understand as much. And who wouldn't? Your little fiasco in class is still fresh in people's memories. Many seemed to think you threatened that poor girl…'

Harry turned slightly away from the headmaster, hiding a sneer that had come over his face. It was sad to admit that the headmaster had a point.

'She has a right to be scared,' Harry said, 'Though I didn't mean to threaten her… I hope she's all right.'

Dumbledore looked to him with that familiar twinkle in his eyes that used to make Harry feel so comfortable and trusting.

'She will recover in time… however, so as to avoid any further troubles, may I suggest you keep your use of Essence to a minimum? It would make us all feel a little less uneasy.'

Harry's mouth worked in contemplation, his brow furrowed seriously.

'Alright…' he answered after a brief pause, 'I'll do my best to keep to wand magic, if it will keep everyone feeling alright.'

Dumbledore's expression lightened slightly at this and he smiled, not realizing that Harry had other reasons of his own that he did not wish to share. Deciding to flick the subject entirely, Dumbledore gestured to the magnificent view the observation tower had over the Quidditch pitch, a look over his face as though he'd never seen one before.

'How does it feel to be back here Harry… back where you belong?'

Harry twitched slightly.

'Oh… just great professor. Couldn't be happier.'

Dumbledore appeared not to notice his lack of enthusiasm, and pulled out a gold watch from his pocket from which he looked down at through his half-moon spectacles.

'We should begin soon enough I assume.' And as though by divine interference, an ageing Madam Hooch flew out onto the pitch to increased excitement from the stands. Harry forgot the headmaster entirely as he focused on the eagle eyed woman, of whom wore a black and white set of robes and a shiny whistle dangling on a chain around her neck. She zoomed quickly to the center of the ground and landed, a large, ornate looking chest floating behind.

The two teams lined themselves up in a rough semi-circle around the old lady, and waited impatiently as she gave the usual pep-talk about keeping the game fair and clean, though Harry wouldn't at all be surprised if that talk was adhered to a little loosely. He remembered he never used to listen to her anyway… he was always too busy looking for the Snitch, even before the game started… After a brief moment the old teacher took a last fleeting look about her, making sure everything was in order before she turned suddenly on her heel and gave the chest a good, sharp kick. Immediately it burst open, and two Bludgers zoomed out, before she grabbed at the large red ball inside and threw it into the air…

'The Quaffle is released!' the commentator's voice shouted over the microphone, and in a brief moment, pandemonium struck as the two teams clashed, their members zooming about one other in a hypnotizing display as they weaved and ducked, hands reaching out desperately for the Quaffle.

The crowd cheered deafeningly from the opposing end of the pitch as a Ravenclaw chaser suddenly latched a hold of the elusive red ball, her quick movements gaining the temporary upper hand.

'And it's Marie Abel of Ravenclaw with the opening Quaffle… passes to Hamer, Jones, back to Abel again, she's closing on the Gryffindor goal, goodness there's no defense! She attempts to score… SAVED by Wright!!!'

A howl of cheers boomed from the Gryffindor end as the Maroon robed keeper quickly hurled the Quaffle back to one of his own Chasers.

'And an excellent attempt at goal by the promising Chaser, with an equally impressive display of keeping skills by Angelique Wright. Perhaps the Gryffindor captain should rework her team's defensive skills a bit, an attempt at goal so soon into the match, geez… and the Quaffle's in Gryffindor's possession now. It's Sullivan, no wait… sorry, yes it's Sullivan, dodges Abel, passes to Potter…'

Harry gave a warm cheer as his daughter took swift possession, before the young girl performed a tricky backhand pass to her team mate Angelina Robinson, who sped at breakneck speed towards the opposite end, two burly looking Ravenclaw Beaters gliding menacingly in her way, one riding a broom… the other balancing on an Air Sprite.

'Robinson with the Quaffle now, attempts to loop Hutchins and… OUCH THAT'LL HURT!!!'

A deafening howl of anger erupted from the Gryffindor end as the sturdy Ravenclaw beater smashed an armored fist into the Chaser's face, knocking her unconsciously from her broom to the ground below. An invisible force seemed to slow her descent as the bloodied girl was quickly tended to by a med-witch, before she was revived and flew back up to the game, by which possession had now changed once more into Ravenclaw's favor… Harry looked from the stands to Madam Hooch who'd seen the whole thing, but didn't bother to blow her whistle.

'Hey, what's going on?' Harry blurted out, incensed that a foul this serious had gone unpunished, 'That's a foul for crying out loud! He can't do that!'

Dumbledore sat calmly next to him waving a multicolored flag about, before he answered with a grunt;

'Actually Harry, he can. And he'll probably do it again.'

'What?!'

As Harry started a heated argument with the headmaster, Ravenclaw chasers maintained their hold on the Quaffle, and seemed to be flying rings around the Gryffindor players who could only react. A muggle flying an Air Sprite caught a wayward pass suddenly and scored a skillful goal, receiving cheers from the Ravenclaw supporters and groans from the sullen Gryffindors.

'The score now is 10 – nothing, Ravenclaw in the lead… It's Potter with the Quaffle, passes to Robinson – I bet she's feeling rather sore after that knock – back to Potter, overhead pass to Sullivan, the boy's got a clear path here… NO! Blocked by Abel and intercepted, it's Ravenclaw on the attack again, Gryffindor players don't know where they are! And Hamer scores a magnificent goal, it's now 20 – Nil to Ravenclaw!'

Another series of groans sounded about the Gryffindor stands. The Ravenclaw team looked entirely composed as they zoomed across the pitch, whilst the maroon team seemed ragged and worn, their strength fading as quick as the Ravenclaw banners were waved around. But the end didn't come swiftly. Soon after the second goal, a Ravenclaw player riding an Air Sprite deliberately angled his searing hot engines into the face of a Gryffindor beater, before he became instrumental in scoring yet another goal for the blue and white team. Likewise, Gryffindor Chaser Sullivan found himself in a spot of difficulty when a Ravenclaw beater club smashed into the back of his head, sending him flying out of control into one of the observation towers.

Harry started becoming more and more vocal as what were obviously fouls were not reported, and simply ignored as though they actually were the rules. When Dumbledore insisted that the new regulations said each offense was not really illegal, Harry went into a rage, and was suddenly fearful for his own daughter's safety. More goals however had been scored since, leaving the Gryffindors feeling lost and totally beaten. None of them seemed to see any point in the game now, and were starting to let easily savable shots into their hoops to even more disdain from their supporters. The score had quickly hit 120 – Nil without anything form of a response…

In a brief flurry of momentum, Genevieve tried to enlighten the team by taking the initiative. Stealing the Quaffle in a daring raid against Ravenclaw, she single handedly took it up past half way, dodging attacks from opposing players until she faced off against their keeper, whilst crouching low to her broom with the Quaffle held tightly under one arm, wind blasting her hair back as she sped towards him… The Ravenclaw keeper, a gruff looking boy with hair slicked back, held his ground bravely as the young chaser closed in upon him at breakneck speed. Most people would've broken ranks at a charge like this, yet the keeper remained unmoving. Genevieve was traveling too fast to notice the malicious glint suddenly lighting up on the boy's face…

And then without warning, he lurched forwards, arm outstretched as he landed a vicious blow to Genevieve's stomach, causing her to drop the Quaffle as she coughed violently. Boos echoed from the maroon half of the crowd as the Gryffindor chaser slowly drifted towards the ground, clutching her pummeled stomach with her free hand. The two beaters, having given up entirely in the game, flew down to her to offer assistance, supporting her until she managed to get her breath back… Another goal was scored, 130 – Nil… Nobody at this moment saw Harry in the stands yelling in rage…

It was at this moment that the Gryffindor captain, a girl named Angelique, finally decided to call a time-out, motioning for her team mates to converse with her on the ground… After a few moments the team had gathered below the hoops at Gryffindor's end, huddled together feeling as though pointlessness could hardly describe their situation. Angelique tried as she might to boost her team's spirits, but the others could see that every word was strained and forced as she said the game wasn't over until it was over, and that with every passing moment, they could conceivably score a goal. The chaser named Sullivan almost looked to be providing inspiration when he agreed with the captain, saying such a feat was possible, until he added that Ravenclaw had been doing just that for the entire game at a seeming leisurely pace.

'Try not to lose heart everyone.' Angelique said to the battered lot, a few of them nursing wounds the med-witches refused to heal, 'It's still a long season ahead of us, and I'll bet Ravenclaw's been preparing for this a lot longer than we have, they always have been a strong team. Just don't think this is all for nothing…'

One of the chasers looked to her with a mingled expression of disbelief and horror at the statement.

'And just how many goals have you scored so far anyway?!' she retorted to the keeper with a sarcastic voice. 'You try and get anywhere near the other end and the Ravenclaw's will finish you off entirely. Look at this…'

And the chaser lifted up her wrist armor, revealing a number of dark bruises before lowering her neck collar slightly to show half a dozen other similar marks.

'Ten times!' she shouted, the other team members going silent at the outburst. 'I've been mauled by them TEN TIMES! And not just me, the other chasers, our seeker and even the beaters have all copped it good. You yourself have been flying ragged. Sure they ain't so bad at half way but the moment you look threatening to them, they'll tear your good game-play apart!'

Angelique frowned slightly as her grand plans for a first-rate match began to unravel before her eyes. Though when she looked back on her entire school experience, she couldn't remember the last time Gryffindor had one more than two games in a row. Would Godric Gryffindor have been this bad at Quidditch were he alive this day?… Probably not… Maybe their team just sucked!

Turning his head slightly, one of the beaters gave a shallow groan, indicating to his left where the others followed his gaze, only to see Harry storming up to them on foot, his black cloak whipping about from gusts of wind as his face looked the picture of fury.

'Uh oh, here comes trouble.' Angelique muttered woefully through her teeth, before Genevieve elbowed her stiffly between the ribs. The other players seemed to huddle closer to each other as Harry drew near, his teeth grinding audibly. Of course they'd all heard the scarred man had lost his temper with a third year girl, and they'd respectfully given him a wide berth since. Hence, upon hearing that Genevieve was his daughter, they'd accorded a lot of that same respect to her, which wasn't all that bad really, though she didn't need her father's imposing demeanor for that… Harry came up breathing heavily, his penetrating eyes seeming to look down upon everyone.

'Ok then…' he said in a shockingly tranquil voice, which must be the calm before the storm, 'Tell me… in as few words as possible… exactly what's going on up there…'

Angelique looked to her other team mates for some kind of support, but all of them save Genevieve cowered behind her, their mouths working with uncertainly.

'Err… well…' she began with hesitation, trying to find the right words, 'It's a new tactic, we're trying to make them tired…'

Angelique gave a winning smile, hoping the lie had gone over well. Harry merely cocked an exaggerated eyebrow, before he took a sideways glance up at the Ravenclaw team, which was hovering towards the opposite end, laughing at the Gryffindors. He turned his attention back to Angelique, who's smile had begun to fade knowing that Harry wasn't an fool.

'You see that?' he asked calmly, pointing up at the cheerful Ravenclaws, who waved back at them with smiles across their faces. 'They're laughing at you. And had I not been so ashamed at Gryffindor's performance during the match I'd be doing much the same thing. You've got to face facts. You're losing, and terribly I might just add!'

Angelique lowered her voice so the others behind couldn't hear.

'But we can't beat them! Unless we catch the Snitch within two goals we're going to lose the game. Ravenclaw's just too strong!'

Harry bent close enough to her that he was almost nose to nose with the anxious keeper. There was a look in his eyes that suggested he was on the verge of exploding, yet he kept his temper surprisingly in check.

'As I recall, Ravenclaw's tactics are brutal and efficient.' Harry began in a whisper, stroking the stubble of hair on his chin, 'Now… I've been out of the Quidditch circuit for quite a while now, so I'm not sure of what rules have been changed. But after seeing that play out there, I've got a feeling that fouls no longer exist. Am I right?'

Angelique passed him a rather confirming look, though she didn't appear to know exactly what a foul was. Harry dismissed it as being typical, but still couldn't get over how brutal the game of Quidditch had become.

'Alright,' he continued, smoothing down his robes, 'I've noticed that none of you seem to be doing anything similar to them as far as play's concerned. Though I don't condone violence in Quidditch, your opponent obviously does. Why aren't you matching that?'

'We play clean!' spoke one of the chasers, stepping out from behind the keeper. 'We don't need to punch people mid air just to get possession!' she sounded as though to do such thing would be out of the question. Harry showed a look of understanding, finally realizing why the Gryffindor team were losing so bad. It wasn't that they were bad players, they were just pacifists, and too full of Gryffindor pride to see the error of their ways.

'Hmm… so you won't fight them. But you're willing to have the stuffing beaten out of you instead?'

The Gryffindor players looked to each other hesitantly, all with the same thing on their minds. Harry just stood patiently waiting for an answer. His daughter stepped forward.

'Look Dad, Gryffindor just doesn't play that way. We aren't a violent team. We never have been! Can't you just accept that?'

A few of the team backed away slightly, thinking that Genevieve had gone and done something rash talking to her father that way. Yet Harry didn't so much as grunt… if anything, he calmed down. The beaters exchanged curious glances.

'You know Genevieve…' Harry said, looking less infuriated, 'When I played Quidditch the first time there was officially over five hundred different ways by which you could cause a foul. Most of them were by the Seeker mind you, but there were other ways as well, each punishable with a penalty…'

He cast an irritated glance up at the Ravenclaws, who were beginning to get impatient.

'Now, I saw nearly every one of those fouls up there during play, and it shocked me that such things didn't halt the game. In short, Quidditch is a lot more brutal than I last remember, and I am somewhat hesitant in letting all of you play, seeing as an accident can easily occur. Sooner or later someone's going to get hurt, unless you put fear into them. Do any of you have the slightest idea where I'm going with this?'

'You aren't seriously suggesting we start using their tactics are you?' spoke the seeker of the team, a lean, rather skinny looking fellow with an ugly bruise on the side of his face, 'Because if you are we won't do it!'

Several of his team members agreed with him, acting as stubborn as any Gryffindor Harry had ever met. Harry shook his head in a disappointed fashion.

'Tisk tisk, you really think I want you to do THAT?! Heavens no, I told you before I don't condone violence. But they must feel fear. That way, their less likely to attack you. Trust me, I know…'

Angelique pursed her lips in thought, running the idea through her head.

'You want us to be deceitful?' she asked off handedly, wearing a slight scowl at the word, 'But that's Slytherin's style of play!'

Again Harry shook his head, looking slightly frustrated.

'No, no, no. You still don't understand. You need a new style of game-play… your very own, and it's gotta be unique! No need to be deceitful, in fact, no need to punch your opponents at all… but goodness people, there ain't nothing wrong with being tricky! Tell me, how many of you carry your wands during a game?'

The two beaters put their hands up hesitantly.

'Right then,' he spoke to the latter, 'You two I'll find useful. I also think… since the rules have changed so much… there is a lot of scope for play.' At this his face brightened in a way that few people could have expected, he was back where he belonged, 'Gather around kids, here's a few moves I always wanted to do to Slytherin when I was a kid…'

And crouching low to the ground, the students formed a rough circle around him, as Harry laid down some tactics and fancy tricks that he reckoned might just aid the struggle…

As the time out period came to an end, Madam Hooch's whistle blew calling for resumption of play. The Ravenclaw players had begun to get bored hovering about with nothing to do, and stretched lazily when the Gryffindor team finally flew up to face them. What on earth could have taken them so long? Did it really take ten minutes to recover? Strangely however, as the keeper noticed, the maroon clad players didn't seem to look so tired and weary, but instead held about them a renewed sense of purpose in their eyes, as if some grand plan was hatching beneath their feet.

Sluggishly the Ravenclaws returned to their positions, as the Gryffindors began looking at each player consecutively. Something was going on in their heads for sure. But it wouldn't matter anyway, considering only three more goals were needed for undeniable victory. Some of the blue and white players were beginning to get restless, and hoped their seeker would catch the snitch so that could all hit the showers and savor their certain win.

Gliding effortlessly out onto the pitch, Madam Hooch held the shiny red ball between her hands, and after casting a rather scrutinized look between the two teams, threw it into the air… The predictable mayhem began at once as maroon, white and blue mingled together in an aerial ballet, searching for the evasive red Quaffle. A brief moment passed when the clutter of flying bodies refused to fall apart, before a lone shout rang over the field.

'I GOT IT! I GOT THE QUAFFLE!'

One of the Gryffindor chasers suddenly broke ranks from the pack and zoomed in a wide arc away from the fray. The Ravenclaws, seeing their quarry escaping, immediately gave chase, knocking out of their way any Gryffindors that deliberately flew into their path to stall them. Nothing was going to stop Ravenclaw getting those last three goals! And yet… the chaser was quick, almost as though he were lighter than normal, and within a few short moments he'd gained some considerable distance between himself and the opposing chasers. Quickly he turned around to face the pursuing blue coats, his eyes intent and looking amused. Something wasn't right…

There was a stunted silence of confusion, as the Ravenclaws chasers came to a befuddling stop in front of him, staring down to where the Quaffle, SHOULD have been… He wasn't holding anything! They couldn't believe it!

'Sorry lads!' the young Gryffindor spoke then, 'Close but no Quaffle! HAHAHA!'

Realization suddenly hit, and the Ravenclaws twisted hurriedly on the spot, only to see a small, maroon speck of a person zooming off towards the Ravenclaw end, holding the large, red Quaffle beneath one arm… Immediately the blue coats took off after them, but the distance was too far to catch up, and in one mighty burst of energy, the Gryffindor chaser scored an incredible goal, the Ravenclaw keeper swerving violently in a vain attempt to save it.

Thunderous cheers roared from the Gryffindor end as the maroon crowd was suddenly enlightened by their team's abrupt turnaround, their vast array of seemingly dormant flags and banners swiftly bursting into life. The Ravenclaws watched on sullenly from their own stands, giving the occasional clap as their opponent's deeds were projected onto the giant holographic view-screen, small, hovering cameras catching all the action of the classic Quaffle feign, replaying it again and again at the commentator's desire. Perhaps he was secretly cheering on the underdogs, who knew…?

Feeling a sudden boost to their confidence, the Gryffindors played with renewed vigor, cutting off Ravenclaw attacks, making quick strafing runs to harass their chasers and even just pulling rude faces to steal precious moments of the blue team's concentration. Anything and everything that Harry showed them. Things of which, according to him, had not been allowed in his day.

Ravenclaw gained a moment's quick possession, and thundered up the pitch with supporting chasers flying a zigzagging pattern as they neared the Gryffindor end. Angelique watched stonily from her vantage point near the golden hoops, her eyes focusing on the Quaffle as it was passed to and fro between the blue and white chasers. All the while maroon clad beaters flew in a rather unwanted escort, yelling obscenities at them to disturb their concentration, which all of a sudden, appeared to be working…

One Ravenclaw chaser, who was told by the Gryffindor beater that his mum was a demon in the sack, completely lost his nerve, and abandoned his fellow chasers in an angered pursuit of the laughing beater, who poked out his tongue and catcalled as he led him away from the Ravenclaw attack. Angelique saw this as her only opportunity to blunt the onslaught and quickly called out to Genevieve and her friend Sullivan, who hovered nearby awaiting instructions.

'Take that side!' she shouted to Sullivan, before looking once more to Genevieve who was wearing a hungry grin, 'Potter, flank attack on Abel, I don't want that Quaffle past a quarter field!'

Genevieve saluted quickly and zoomed off in an arc, unnoticed by Marie Abel, the Ravenclaw chaser who possessed the Quaffle that moment. Whilst keeping a low profile, Genevieve flew her broom in from behind the blue and white chaser before she was flying almost directly at her side, their two brooms neck and neck.

'Where on earth are my teammates?!' Abel shouted to no one as she rocketed through the air towards the Gryffindor end, not noticing Genevieve flying along side her.

'Here I am!' she shouted, bringing a wave of relief over the blue and white, who didn't look up.

'Oh thank goodness, for a second there I thought… WHAT THE…?!?!!?!' The Ravenclaw choked out in stunned surprise, as she looked directly at Genevieve for the first time. 'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!'

Genevieve gave a shrugged expression before grabbing Abel forcefully by the robes, her eyes bulging in horror as the Gryffindor held her in an iron grip.

'Sorry Abel old pal, but I'm afraid this is where you get off…!' and at once Genevieve pushed her off her broom, Abel's hands flailing as the Quaffle was swiftly taken up by Sullivan from the opposite flank, before she broke away towards the Ravenclaw end, the beaters flying close by as an impenetrable wall… Another goal was scored, 130 – 20.

Harry cheered as the Gryffindor team got to their bearings once more, and that his own daughter held so much spunk about her in the air… The Gryffindor onslaught began at this moment, their fans and numerous supporters screaming their delight as the maroon team started making mince meat out of their opposition. The score quickly began to rise. 130 – 80…

A sudden glint of gold caught Harry's attention from the corner of his eye, his own seeker skills still working within him. And sure enough, the crowd began pointing towards the tiny golden snitch, it's miniscule wings beating furiously as it zipped speedily through the air. Ravenclaw's seeker was the first to see it and took off in pursuit. The Gryffindor seeker followed suit shortly after, wind blowing back his unkempt hair as his opponent tore ahead of him, his lead already commanding.

Angelique spotted the two seekers chasing the tiny golden device far above the pitch, and knew that the game was soon to end. Gryffindor needed to catch the snitch, there was no question about it… Hastily she directed her last reserve player, the second of the two beaters who'd returned, to cut off the opposing seeker by any means necessary. Sending a sign of recognition, the beater took off, his broom zooming in a wide arc to meet the sprite riding seeker, who's jets were firing furiously to catch the tiny gold sphere. He'd gained some ground on the snitch, time was running out…

Gryffindor's captain flexed her fists open and closed in anxiety as she watched the snitch make sudden jarring movements left and right across the field, the Ravenclaw seeker balancing his weight deftly from side to side on his air sprite to maximize maneuverability. The distance between the snitch and it's pursuer closing slightly, further and further. Sweat began to roll down Angelique's face as she watched her beater follow quickly from behind, having gained the support of their other beater as well. They couldn't match the Ravenclaw for speed, but the beaters knew as Angelique did, that being tricky was the way to win. Harry had been very vocal in that regard, and if they won the game, she wouldn't care how angry he'd been with other students… she'd kiss him. He was handsome enough in his own right, could be rather fun.

The two Gryffindor beaters flew quickly along side one other, the dual team vainly trying to keep up with blue and white seeker who almost seemed to pull further and further ahead for every moment that went by. The maroon seeker gave an impressive chase close by, but his broom was of an old make according to the captain and vastly outmatched by the Ravenclaw. It was a series one Firebolt, a sluggish beast compared to the newer Hellion series, not to mention the outright superiority of the muggle built Air Sprites. But if everything went to plan as professor Potter had explained, then their seeker's lack of speed need not matter.

One of the beaters pointed quickly off to his left, shouting out to his team mate to be ready for him when it mattered. Nodding, his partner veered off, cutting across the pitch over where he thought the snitch was going to travel. Looking ahead sternly, the first beater looked to the Ravenclaw who still held a commanding distance ahead, and knew exactly what was necessary for the match. Pulling his wand out, he directed himself onto a sharper course, so that he could see the rear of his opponent's broom more clearly. Lining his wand up, he aimed carefully what was sure to be a critical decision. His team mates always said he'd been a good marksman.

'Flamero Incantate!' he barked, and a bright yellow spell shot off towards the Ravenclaw, striking at his broom's tail and setting it alight…

For a moment the seeker didn't realize his broom was on fire, until shocked sounding shouts reverberated from the Ravenclaw stands in his direction, people pointing in horror. Turning his head slightly, he caught the bright yellow flames out of the corner of his eye, which produced a terrible smelling trail of black smoke that fanned out along his trail.

'ARGH!!!' he shouted, losing his concentration on the snitch as he smacked wildly at his broom tail, trying to extinguish the flames. His frantic efforts seemed only to fan them even further as his broom went off course, the Gryffindor seeker bypassing his rival to continue pursuit of the snitch. But the Ravenclaw seeker was not out of the game just yet, and Harry had made it very clear in his talk to the team that this member of the opposition was probably the MOST dangerous, and needed to be destroyed utterly to remove him from the game. The first beater had done his job well enough, and watched the seeker travel in an odd zigzagging pattern as he attacked the flames licking at his robes… all the while not noticing the other beater, who'd flown ahead of him and waited, hovering still in the air.

'DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU!!!' the Ravenclaw shouted angrily, finally beginning to get a hold of the Gryffindor's treachery. What was worse he realized, is what the maroon player had done was not entirely against the rules, and he briefly wondered exactly what was. No doubt the Slytherin players who watched the game from the stands would be getting some fresh ideas for their next match… As he finally doused the flames that seemed certain to engulf him, he looked up at where he was flying, and only managed a startled yelp as the other Gryffindor beater, who's right arm was raised stiffly, coat-hangered him in a swift movement, detaching him from his mount to the grass below.

Knowing that spells had been cast to slow people down before they hit the ground had absolutely no bearing on his situation whatsoever, and his angered yells as he fell earthbound were muffled by the tumultuous cheer from the Gryffindors as their own seeker wrapped his strong fingers tightly over the tiny golden snitch, an instant 150 points adding to their overall total and ending the game in a humiliating defeat for Ravenclaw.

He would never hear the end of this…

Gryffindor's unbelievable win earlier that day had prompted much fan-fare on Harry's part, almost the entire school being abuzz about the incredible tactics that had been employed by them, allegedly under his own direction. Gryffindor house had been entirely revitalized after the win, and asked Harry whether he would consider coaching them further in Quidditch… Harry declined, saying that it may prove to be a somewhat unfair advantage for the Gryffindor team, and maintained that he had only meant to show them the way, as their own intuition would be more than suitable for thinking up other impressive tactics. Though disappointed in Harry's final decision, the maroons took great pride in their defense teacher, viewing him as some form of guardian since he had once been in Gryffindor himself, a sense of resounding awe coming over the students.

It was a measure of how popular he had started to become when the other Quidditch teams also approached him with similar proposals. Again and again Harry was forced to decline their offers, saying that the best tactic to use was a unique style of play that few others could emulate. He felt pleased when each team left looking more satisfied than he had hoped. To him it felt that everything was starting to come into place at last, and now he could finally begin to forget about how adverse he'd been to life, and all the years he'd missed. Perhaps coming to Hogwarts again, though it held rather ominous memories of it's own, was the right thing to do. For a moment he thought of his family.

Ginny had stayed a few nights at Hogwarts while he was settling himself in. She never told him exactly why she did, only that she had rather important matters to attend to. It wasn't an intention of hers to stay any longer than necessary, though Harry did suspect at one point she was only really there to check up on him. Of course, she was in the Ministry's employ, and from what her mother in law had told him, she was often run off her feet with work. He was happy at least that Ginny hadn't relied solely on his own inherited fortune to get by in life, and that for the most part, she'd managed to survive by herself.

Genevieve though was a different matter all together. In one respect he was happy that she hadn't the cares and burdens that he himself now carried, and in another, he was unbelievably proud of her for becoming a mature person at such a young age, and wondered whether having not been there for her had spurned this on. He tried not to think about that, but rather, how she was a young achiever. He had taught her several times in classes throughout his stay at Hogwarts and found her to be very intelligent indeed. Definitely inherited from her mother's side, not his, but then, she also had a streak of bravery in her as well, by her display on the Quidditch pitch earlier that day. She didn't seem adverse to the idea of pushing someone off their broom. Quietly Harry smiled to himself. In his youth he'd never had considered such ignoble tactics, yet the rules had changed and now his daughter was allowed to do all the things in a match that he had wanted to do… yes, everything was falling into place.

As he walked through one of Hogwarts many corridors, passing students as they bustled along with bundles of parchment, books and quills, he looked ahead to where Genevieve was walking towards him with several friends in tow. She was popular too it seemed… Tossing back her vibrant hair, she waved happily to him as Harry came to stop, taking in his daughter as well as her friends.

'Hi Dad! Everything alright?' she asked jovially, handing an assorted range of reading materials over to a nearby friend. Harry nodded, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

'Yes, it is as a matter of fact. Couldn't be better you might say. How about you? Nothing troubling I hope?'

'Nah, everything's cool. Christine and I were going to go visit Hagrid after our lessons have finished,' she gestured to a black haired girl, 'We were wondering if perhaps you'd like to come along with us?'

Harry stood silent for a moment as he stroked his chin, thinking seriously on the idea. Again Hagrid had completely slipped his mind. Perhaps he'd thought the half giant no longer worked at Hogwarts, or maybe his own memory was just so shocking. For a brief moment he was inclined to agree with his starry eyed child, but remembered quite a large pile of assignments sitting un-marked on his office desk. Unfortunately he admitted, he had to prioritize matters first.

'I'm sorry Genevieve, I'm afraid I've got work to complete after lessons are over, so I'll be a little strapped for time if you know what I mean. Thanks for offering though, it has been quite a while since I saw Hagrid, perhaps I may take up your offer when I've got some spare time on my hands. Today's just a tad inconvenient, sorry.'

Genevieve beamed up at him without her smile flickering an inch. Her friends looked a little disappointed however, and Harry felt slightly sorry for them.

'Doesn't matter Dad, maybe next time eh?'

'I guarantee it.'

Looking satisfied, Genevieve gave him a casual wave before taking off down the hall to join the multitudes of people who were descending the shifting staircases. The giant forms of the stairs often casting shadows over the floors below as they turned at their own whims, sometimes catching students by surprise who stayed on them too long. Harry inhaled a deep breath as he gathered his train of thought once more, before turning about to walk the other direction…

Thinking of those countless assignments he had to mark, he decided he'd leave them to after he had a coffee at least, or otherwise he might find himself asleep on the job. Dumbledore wouldn't like that much… so he set a brisk pace towards the great hall, it's cavernous interior letting in streams of warm light from beyond stained glass windows. Since the war twenty years ago, the great hall, amongst other parts of Hogwarts, had been completely rebuilt from the ground up. Damage inflicted by missiles had destroyed much of it's original self, so the repairs that had been administered looked to be an interesting assortment of wizard and muggle influence. The foundations remained largely wizard based, just as they had been before the attacks, whilst the remainder had been built ground up by the muggles. Stone had been imported and cemented together, a process wizard builders found most intriguing, and before long, artisans had returned to add the final touches. Gargoyles, statues, windows, light fixtures etc…

It felt hard to believe that Hogwarts had been a site of such ruination, but he'd seen it first hand, and had almost been killed himself during the fighting. But it was a war long gone, and this fact amongst his general well being seemed to make him unusually comfortable. A sensation that he was not always accustomed to feeling… Walking into the hall he looked this way and that at students who were sitting down having lunch, sometimes with books spread out haphazardly in front of them. Education it seemed didn't stop at Hogwarts… Letting out a sigh he walked up to the far end of the hall, casually exchanging waves with still over exuberant Gryffindors, before taking a seat far from the milling crowds of students that buzzed noisily to each other from the other side.

Spinning his fingers about, a steaming hot cup of coffee suddenly materialized in front of him, as well as a current edition of the Daily Prophet, it's curved text and moving pictures making him feel more at home and relaxed than he had been for some years… It felt strange how much you could enjoy such simple things in life. But he concluded that he just never really had much time to relax, he'd always been on the move, from one country to another and didn't often get the opportunity to put his feet up. Though he knew he still had some rather disturbing responsibilities, his gathering of the Narcissan books to name the foremost, he understand that it was well worth the effort to settle down a bit with life. And for a few brief moments, all cares and worries leached out of his head as he took a refreshing sip of coffee, a smile forming on his face, before his hand moved toward the newspaper that laid idly nearby…

What felt like a vice suddenly gripped his throat as he spat a mouthful of hot coffee out in shock, his eyes glued horrifyingly on the Prophet's front page… Several students who sat a little further down the row of tables looked up curiously at him, before Harry met their gaze through his round glasses. He held up his cup as if to answer their questioning stares.

'Phew… Mighty strong coffee this!' he lied, trying to draw attention away from the paper that he held with a white knuckled grip, 'Might need a little bit of milk, it ain't for the faint hearted.'

The students looked to each other amusedly before they turned back to their activities laughing, thinking that Harry had just choked on a mouthful of bad home blend… Harry watched them for a moment to make sure they were no longer paying him any mind, before he turned once more to the Prophet, trying as best he could to stay calm as he read and re-read the title, whilst a rather scathing story was written below. His eyes passed over the text quickly, a small bead of sweat beginning to roll down his face.

"PRODIGEN MAGE AT HOGWARTS!!!"

"Parents of school faring students will have considerable reason to worry over the coming weeks, with the revelation that a Prodigen mage has since undertaken a teaching position at Hogwarts school of witchcraft, wizardry and muggle tech. The mage, who's name cannot be identified here for security reasons, has been at the center of a widespread cover up involving other members of the prestigious school's teaching staff after an incident occurred where the anonymous mage lost his temper with a young student, thus seriously endangering her life. The student in question, who's name also cannot be identified, since leaked the story to their concerned parents, who promptly relayed the grief stricken youth's emotions to the daily prophet. In the time that has passed, numerous complaints and statements of outrage have since been filed, adding to the growing list of concerned people who want this magically dangerous hybrid to be removed from the teaching position."

" 'It's disgraceful!' wrote Amon Gibblesworth, spokesperson for the Ministry of Magic, 'The presence of a Prodigen Mage at Hogwarts is only proof of the lack of commitment by Albus Dumbledore to root out such evil manifestations of magic. A Prodigen at Hogwarts can only mean danger to the students at a very real level, and the ministry, under the direction of the Viridian King will undoubtedly wish to halt this mage's ghastly practices at Hogwarts once and for all, before anyone truly gets hurt.' "

"This letter, which was mailed to the Daily Prophet yesterday, is but a sample of the collective outrage that has since stemmed from this mage's appearance which seems so sudden at Hogwarts. As is common knowledge, it is believed that the muggle / wizard war was first started by the intrigues of a Prodigen. Their unparalleled magical power and ability makes them the most deadly of opponents in duals, and they are known to be able to perform hideously complex spells and charms without the usual aid of a wand that we are most accustomed to. Knowledge on the subject is scarce, so it is unknown exactly what occurs to produce these terrifyingly powerful wizards and witches. It is speculated that it may be due to some mutated genetic off-shoot, or a curious pattern in DNA strains. But whatever the reason, danger in dealing with such "people" is a definite concern, and some analysts believe that a Prodigen, existing right where the center of the war took place, may renew hostilities between our two societies once more. A possibility that has indeed raised some very influential eyebrows. Not knowing the final outcome of whatever this mage may be planning, it is in the best interests of the public to rally together and remove this one stray knot in our social fabric. We must think of our futures, and even more so, our children's futures…"

Harry read as the article continued down the page, but after a number of lines it just seemed apparent that the Prophet was very biased towards his kind, and looked destined to exterminate him one way or another. He remembered with great clarity how he'd lost his temper with the annoying young girl, but after the events of today, it seemed to feel somewhat insignificant considering other responsibilities that now weighed heavily on his shoulders. It did however, serve him a distinct threat… from his own experiences he knew that the methodical ravings of the tabloids often accumulated many supporters of their own, who didn't know any better than to read and accept things at face value without trying to learn for themselves. It had always been this way afterall, but he had been young and inexperienced at the time, and hadn't known how to deal with the mounting dislike that had been stirred up against him.

It was different now, but only slightly. The root of the problem was people's own values. Much of the post war generation had been brought up to believe that a Prodigen had begun the conflict to begin with. Their older mentors, having spoken this for so long as though it were gospel, had begun to believe it too, without thinking to check facts. Harry felt somewhat annoyed at this because to an extent they were correct, a Prodigen had been the root cause of it all, but not in the way they believed true. Since the entire episode had been covered up by Hogwarts, no one outside the castle walls knew that the war had begun because of the dark wizard Grindelwald, and his horrible manipulations on both the wizard and muggle worlds. No one had a clue that Harry Potter had faced this most evil of wizards, and killed him in a drawn out battle of blood and power.

It served only to infuriate him knowing that this deed had not been recognized though he didn't actively seek it, especially when world favor had begun to turn upon the Prodigens. He was not the only one who was capable of wandless magic it seemed. This being evident enough by the horrible insurrections against suspected Prodigens in the past, just after the peace treaty had been signed. Hundreds had died in swarms of mob induced violence, victims of increased paranoia amidst the masses. Many of these people had truly not been Prodigens at all, just simple, ordinary folk, whether they were wizard or muggle… Harry himself had probably been spared much of this due to Hogwarts extensive protection over him, as well as Dumbledore's influence in the ministry and the fledging world government that was now headed by the Viridian King who was based in London. Due to this perhaps, Harry had the time necessary enough to learn his craft well, and the aid of the Narcissan book that he had found – Heir Yugaal – had strengthened him in a way that no one could have predicted. It was unfortunate that using Essence had it's drawbacks if you did not possess all the necessary knowledge. The prospect of destroying the world in an magic induced insanity being something of a key concern.

What was worse he thought, was that people had become paranoid over those like himself, rather than the real threat; Voldemort, of whom had apparently been long forgotten by the populous. People had been so exuberant when the war ended that they somehow chose to forget that the dark lord had himself shared an important role in the hostilities. And he was yet to be captured. A fact that put a shiver down his spine when he thought about it. If anything, this entire ordeal with the Prophet couldn't have come at a worse time. Knowing that Voldemort could attack anywhere and whenever he wished was reason enough to panic, seeing as he'd taken one of the books for himself… Also there was the issue that it would once again disrupt his family life, and possibly lose him his job. He didn't know whether or not he could handle not being able to see Ginny or Genevieve again, that scared him… And then finally, it could mean danger for many other people besides himself. If the public became mistrustful again, the world could experience once more the indiscriminant uprisings that took place against alleged Prodigens just after the end of hostilities. For all these reasons and more than didn't immediately come to mind, Harry could see that he was heading for trouble most dire.

But he was no longer a child, and had some minor experience of politics in his days since he first left Hogwarts. The key to stopping such unsavory stories getting out was to halt them at the source. If it was true as it had been written, that his job was on the line, then there was only one person with power over Dumbledore to order such action to be taken place against him… the Viridian King… Taking a rather hesitant sip of coffee, he read over the harsh article once more before formulating in his head exactly what he had to do. Perhaps it was time he met this Viridian King for himself. To him it was important because this man held power enough to halt him in his tracks with political red tape, and that was something he could ill afford knowing that if he didn't find the Narcissan books soon, he was destined to go mad… Quietly he made the decision to travel to London. There at least, he might be able to put a stop to this once and for all! 

Hi all. Ain't it good I've updated so much sooner than before? School hasn't been so worrisome now that my current tests are completed, plus I think I've overcome some serious writer's block as well. Sometimes it's hard being seventeen, everyone wants something off you immediately. I'm lucky that I've time to write and unwind before I have to get ready for school again. At any rate, I'm sure this chapter will help further your understanding of what's going on in the story. I reckon I'm a bit over a third of the way finished. Enjoy!   
Regards: Richard Flynn 


	10. The Viridian King

Chapter 10 – The Viridian King  
  
Dry air met with coarse leather as Harry walked solemnly through London's crowded city streets, the multitudes of people bustling around him seeming in no way of knowing his true identity. He wore a dark cloak, the blackest and thickest he owned, with it's obscuring hood pulled up over his head to prevent people from seeing his face. Of course, he could see everything, as tiny nano-machines embedded deep within his cloak's fabric projected a 360 degree view of his surroundings. It had saved his life more than once, of which he had not been entirely thankful for. More often than not, he prayed that with each mission he'd undertaken for the Order, that mission would be his last. Truth be told, he had held a death wish for many years, as the pain and suffering he'd seen drove him into a terrible depression which didn't equate with any kind of fulfilling life to him. Only the image of Ginny's vibrant red hair within his mind kept him sane enough to keep going, despite the horrors he'd witnessed, and to a degree, he was thankful for that… or so he'd believed.  
  
Whilst people unwittingly knocked into him from side to side, as he walked against the flow of the crowd, Harry thought deeply of his situation, and of his family. He loved them ever so much, and wondered how he could ever have considered wanting to die. And then he realised, he must have felt a greater need to live for him to still be here, for he knew all too well that he could have killed himself using Essence in a way that few would understand. Harry didn't feel privileged to be able to wield such enormous power, as there was an inevitable cost involved. Though Essence held a life about it as it coursed through flesh and blood, it felt like balancing on the blade of a very sharp knife. The slightest slip or overuse of the magic could lead to terrible consequences. And that he didn't know what those consequences were made the prospect even more terrifying. For this reason he had never fully explored his potential with the magic whenever he summoned the energy. There was always the unconscious understanding that to do so would lead to death and destruction most dire, so he'd held back. Briefly he wondered whether this had been the intention of the Narcissans when they had created the books, and this further strengthened his belief that he needed to find all of them as soon as he could. More so for the sake of others rather than himself, and he needed to prove to people that he was safe to be around, especially since his job rested on it entirely.  
  
A deep rumbling noise reverberated far above his head, and Harry looked up to see a giant civilian transport ship, one of thousands that traveled the space lanes, slowly rising into the air beyond the highest spires of London's skyscrapers. As the monstrous metal machine reached a predetermined height, it's three, enormous pulse engines hummed to life with a surge of flame and magical energies, which propelled it upwards through the atmosphere with blinding speed, it's silhouette becoming little more than a speck as it disappeared swiftly from Harry's view… Such sights were not uncommon in London, which had become the fledging world capital since the sighing of the peace treaty. Speeding swiftly in lanes above the people bound city streets, thousands of Lev-Wings traversed in traffic from place to place across the city, whilst their larger cousins, Shaa-Wings, did much the same but at a slower pace, transporting everything from people to assorted cargoes between the numerous spaceports that littered the city.  
  
It was a testament to how advanced humanity had become when wizards and muggles chose to ignore their differences and unite for a better future. It can be said that both races held about them a certain flaw, or substantial loss, of which their opposites could fulfill. For instance, wizard kind, though possessing incredible magical means, had little vision for bettering their race, and their society was beginning to stagnate as a result. Muggles on the other hand, though being unable to perform magic, held within themselves a spark of creativity, and the desire to continually improve. Together wizards and muggles helped each other, and that which had once been believed impossible, such as widespread space travel, had now become a reality. Technology it seemed, was not so adverse to magic that the two could not co-exist. Rather, the benefits achieved through hybridizing machines with magic, were staggering.  
  
As Harry continued his brisk walk through the city's streets, other civilian craft began taking off and landing at irregular intervals. Some civilian freighters, held about them a size equal to an entire city block, and would have been entirely impossible to move were the powerful Reductive charms in their engines not in use. Though he'd never been fully interested in the inter galactic exploits humanity had achieved, Harry couldn't help but stare in awe as the giant, metal clad forms cast enormous shadows over the ground below as they began a sluggish ascent into the atmosphere, gaining speed as they went.  
  
He mused over the possible destinations of these craft. Were they traveling the well used space lanes to planetary bodies close to Earth's orbit of the sun, such as the thriving colonies stationed on Mars, or perhaps one of Jupiter's many inhabitable moons where millions now lived? Or, were they perhaps traveling to the Celestial Gate, a giant contraption of gateway technology orbiting the moon, that instantaneously transported ships over dozens of light years, to the far reaches of the known solar system and beyond? Planets like Neptune and Pluto fit into this category, but Harry immediately dismissed the idea, as that sector of space was supposedly little more than a series of ill protected military outposts. Nobody dared live all the way out there. Not to mention being impractical, who would want to? Harry immediately felt glad that his place and worries rested firmly on Earth, where he could theoretically keep matters under his gaze. He couldn't imagine himself ever wanting to board a space bound ship no matter the reason.  
  
Directing his eyes away from the interstellar craft, Harry peered into the distance where he saw his own destination that stood unhindered by the skyscrapers around it. A tall, magnificent building, which looked something similar to a giant spire of metal and stone, rose elegantly into the sky. It's highest levels all but obscured by layers of fluffy white clouds. It was the World Senate… the hallowed meeting place of royalty and dignitaries from every nation. Here decisions regarding the fate of global affairs, and the lives of everyday citizens, were debated and governed over by representatives with political ambitions… Unfortunate enough for it's reputation however, the World Senate was marred by rumors and allegations of corruption, deceit, and illegal currency laundering, though people didn't care much so long as the politicians did their jobs right… Yet to put forward a proposal here was to see it take months for a resolution. Bickering and political intrigues were not uncommon, and decisions often came too late for the original query no matter it's importance. By all rights, this would have to be the last place to get a civilian matter resolved, unless you were very well off financially and willing to line a senator's pockets. But nevertheless, it was Harry's destination. And not because he thought it possible that the senate might hear him out and stop media slandering against him, but rather, it was the residing place of the one man who could definitely do something about it… the Viridian King.  
  
Not watching where he was going, Harry accidentally walked into someone, a balding old man who immediately dropped a rather large suitcase to the ground in surprise, spilling numerous contents across the busy street to the bemusement of passers by. Harry's own hood was knocked off accidentally and it didn't occur to him to pull it back up before the man straightened himself and stared directly at him, a look of utter frustration wrought across his face… Harry knew the man immediately, he'd met him before many years ago at a wand shop in Diagon Alley. It was Mr Olivander…  
  
'Hey! You watch where you're going boy! Or I'll…'  
  
The old man trailed off as he looked closely at Harry's face, his eyes lighting up as he suddenly recognized the lightening scar stretched across his forehead…  
  
'Wait a minute…' he began hesitantly, not bothering to collect his dropped possessions, 'I remember you… You're Harry Po…'  
  
Immediately Harry clicked his fingers producing a sudden, makeshift memory charm that quickly overcame the old wand seller, his eyes slipping out of focus slightly as he peered at his surroundings, utter bewilderment stretched across his face. Looking at the black robed man who stood before him, Mr Olivander greeted Harry as though they'd never previously met, and they shook hands politely as first meetings usually require… Watching the old man pick up his things and walk light headedly away, Harry felt safe knowing that an Essence formed charm such as this would wear off after a while. He'd remember everything in his life except for this one chance encounter with the boy who lived, and that was enough for him.  
  
Only then as he pulled his hood back up to obscure his face, did Harry realize the terrible lack of judgment he'd just had. Ginny had told him earlier when she stayed at Hogwarts that actions using Essence where monitored and recorded by the Viridian… Though he didn't ask how she knew this, it figured out that his own brief row with that young student at Hogwarts had not gone unnoticed by the king afterall, despite the school's relative distance from the capital. And where else but HERE did he decide to use the ancient magic! Right in the lion's den! He had to hide…  
  
Searching about himself quickly, Harry ducked into a dark, sidelong alleyway from which he could eye the crowded street in safety, whilst the harsh, rasping of his breath seemed to echo in the darkness… For a moment nothing happened… until suddenly, an all too familiar crackling noise was heard, before the corners of Harry's vision pulled inwards as a bright blue portal opened abruptly in the middle of the crowded street. Yells of surprise and panic quickly enveloped those who dodged the expanding hole in the air, and people ran in all directions as four heavily armored soldiers stepped out of the shimmering blue portal. Their mechanized body suits glinted in the sunlight as their accompanying black and white robes whipped in the cold breeze, the red and gold sigil of the Viridian King (a sword wrapped in thorns), ominously displaying the authority held by the regal figure.  
  
Brandishing long, gleaming stun rifles, the four battle hardened warriors scanned the now deserted street through black eye slits that were carved in their viciously shaped helmets, searching for any form of disturbance, or rather, the source of the sudden burst of Essence… Harry knew he could have overcome them all relatively easily, but didn't want to risk drawing anymore undue attention onto himself, and pressed himself as flat as possible against the dark, brick wall, his own black cloak helping him to blend in with his surroundings. One of the soldiers, built of a slightly larger frame whom Harry thought was the leader, raised his voice suddenly, the mechanical suits of his companions twisting about to face him, as much out of fear as of respect.  
  
'Fan out, I want whatever caused that energy spike to be taken alive. I get rather irritable when the Viridian singles me out for failures on your part.'  
  
The others nodded, sounds of mechanical parts humming and clicking within their suits, as they spread about in a wide formation, their long barreled riles primed to fire indiscriminately… Harry knew what it felt like to be hit by a stun bolt. In reality the devices within the weapon harnessed the energy of stunning charms, but instead of merely shocking the target into inactivity, stun bolts could drop a person to the ground in a single shot, making them writhe in pain as magical energy pulsed unchecked throughout their body. He himself had suffered this fate once, but had reserved enough energy within to fend off the aggressor, and thus make an escape.  
  
Harry held his breath as the Viridian Guards searched the side streets for any trace of the Essence wielder, sensors attached to their helmets no doubt scanning for more traces of the old magic. Pulling himself as tight against the wall as his body would allow, Harry held tight as a torchlight was suddenly shone down his alley way, illuminating the dark, rubbish filled side street… The guard holding the torch stood there for a moment, as though waiting for him to reveal himself, his torch gliding effortlessly over the alley walls… Finally the guard realized this alley was yielding little, and so, with a shrug, he moved on, disappearing from view.  
  
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as his hiding place was once more plunged into darkness, the sounds of the Viridian guards slowly decreasing as they made their way further down the street, ransacking buildings and inactive Lev-Wings that were landed on the sides of the road… It was apparent after a few tense minutes that the soldiers were becoming aggravated at having found so little substantial evidence of a Prodigen, and in a brief surge of magic, another blue, shimmering portal opened in the street, transporting the disgruntled soldiers back to who knows where… Harry curiously poked his head out over the street, as people who had been hiding from the Viridian Guards began doing the same, slowly abandoning their haunts to return to their errands… He waited until the street had filled once more with bustling crowds before he adjusted his hood and walked out of the alley, continuing his trek towards the giant spire of metal and stone that held the world's collective government…  
  
It didn't take long to reach the spire's scenic entrance, a long intricately paved walkway which was flanked either side by colossal stone statues of great witches, wizards and muggles of the past century… Harry looked up at one or two occasionally, curiously reading the few sentences written on their pedestals that described the statue's owner, even as the countless multitudes of flying traffic overhead made deafening noises… Passing people on his left and right, he walked up a large stone staircase that led to the main entrance, where people came and went at will, while two powerful Viridian Guards stood to attention by the doorway, their stun rifles held vertical in a disciplined manner.  
  
Walking passed into the enormous building, Harry didn't stop to marvel at the sheer size and scale of the government's grandeur. The floors were covered in a luxurious blue carpet, woven and embroidered by master artisans, whilst ornate fixtures and moldings covered the ceiling and walls, projecting an appearance of wealth and prestige upon all who looked upon them as they entered…  
  
Looking onwards past numerous people who came and went, Harry followed the general tide of citizens that snaked it's way slowly into the enormous auditorium, where a political session was taking place that same moment… when he entered, he heard the voices of politicians that were amplified through speakers, as they debated activities beneath their jurisdiction… As people before him made their way to specially designed observation seats that overlooked the entire session, Harry stood silently watching the proceedings, his dark cloak still with its hood firmly wrapped around his head. His gaze swept over thousands of politicians that stood in specific enclosures, the names of whom they represented having been printed in bold letters over them. All of these seats faced forward in a rough semi-circle, that focused it's attention on the judicator of the precession… the Viridian King himself. Harry concentrated his gaze on HIM.  
  
The king stood to a disciplined stance, his hands wrapped tightly to his sides as every so often he chose to recognize one of the politicians who was given precedence to speak their mind. Flanking him on each side were guards, who bore no other dissimilarities from their comrades apart from long, red stripes of rank emblazoned across their robes, where mechanical suits beneath would function ceaselessly, along with all manner of weaponry that the king's personal guard would carry. Harry paid them no attention as he looked to the Viridian, who gazed mildly across the cavernous interior of the World Senate, a snow white head of hair glistening in the brightness of the auditorium, as he raised his two hands together in commencement of a new topic of discussion. One of the politicians stepped forward towards him, fumbling through some rough papers about as he prepared to speak.  
  
'The World Senate now recognizes the representative from the League of Free Peoples.' The Viridian began, his booming voice echoing power and unquestionable authority, 'The Senate may be seated for this discussion…'  
  
The countless politicians that surrounded the king sat down respectfully as the recognized party, a woman who wore shining blue robes with gold embroidered stitching, cleared her throat hastily to make her address.  
  
'Most honored Viridian, subjects of the empire, and general delegates…' she began in a strong voice, the senate quieting to a mumble, 'It is with reluctance that I have chosen to be here today, away from my duties to the League of Free Peoples, one would know afterall that our union does not normally partake in political affairs…'  
  
Several politicians nodded, watching eagerly as the newcomer laid down her address. She continued on…  
  
'As such, you must forgive my inaptitude towards speaking publicly in this matter, yet what concerns the League may very well concern many others, as it is not only we who are at a disadvantage… I refer to the space lanes orbiting Earth… Trade, as you are all aware, travels these lanes on a continual basis from continent to continent at swift speeds, as well as delivering many exotic off world goods from our colonies stretched throughout our solar system…'  
  
She held in her hand a small device that she thumbed briefly, a tall holographic screen suddenly appearing before the Viridian, with images of Earth in relation to other planets, the space lanes (represented by red lines) interlaced throughout.  
  
'These trade routes form a significant level of support for our global economy. And not only for us, but these same routes are the lifeline of distant planetary establishments like Mars, who rely on ships transporting cargo through the Celestial Gate for their continued survival… However, this survival is threatened! Over the past months numerous ships, both commercial and civilian, have been lost without trace on route to the Celestial Gate. Last month alone we have forfeited over 90% of our earnings from the lost trade, and for a long time we were at a loss as to how and why these ships were not reaching their destinations…'  
  
She thumbed the small hand device again, and the view screen zoomed in closer to an obscure part of the trade route that neared the relatively unmonitored Celestial Gate, the red dots of the route shimmering until they cut out at a particular point.  
  
'This, Senators… is precisely where our ships have been lost. Monitoring one of our cargo haulers on route to Jupiter's moons, our transmissions with it vanished at this point, an area of space roughly equal to 30,000 kilometers in diameter…'  
  
The mumbling of the senators increased slightly at the phenomenon, several pointing to the hologram as they spoke in fervent voices to their accompanying colleagues.  
  
'Other ships have also been lost in this same sector,' she continued on, apparently oblivious to the debate that had already begun, 'And by our calculations, 90% of earnings in such a small locality is not at all coincidence, and thanks to a recording by one of our ships prior to it's disappearance, we now have a much better understanding as to their fate…'  
  
Again she thumbed the hand device, and the map dematerialized into a rather scratchy video recording, set in an empty piece of space not far from the Celestial Gate. Every so often the recording would jitter with static as it played through from the point of view of the ship's navigational computers. Harry watched it curiously from his vantage point high above the proceedings on the observation deck, his attention briefly leaving the Viridian, who didn't so much as move a muscle.  
  
For a few moments the recording turned it's focus about on a horizontal axis, the glowing silhouette of the moon slowly filling the screen… and then, from the corner display, a small, metallic object was seen darting swiftly towards the ship that was recording, before red bolts of concentrated energy suddenly smashed into the camera… and the video stopped. The politicians began mumbling feverishly amongst themselves at they watched the recording be reduced into indiscernible static, before the hologram went blank. The blue robed League representative stood to attention, allowing the film to have maximum effect before she winded back the recording to a scene just before it cut out, and paused it. The woman zoomed the frozen image in slightly towards what looked to a be another ship, a small, fleeting craft that appeared to have weapons onboard.  
  
'What, I wonder, would the senate choose to make out of this…? Has it finally come to the point where we have Pirates raiding our trade routes?' a murmur is denial spread about the cavernous auditorium at mention of the word "Pirates"… 'Or… perhaps, is there some other force at work here? Behold…'  
  
And she zoomed the frozen image in to it's maximum level, where text written on the sides of the ship could clearly be seen. The words; "Telsacom Corporation" were written in large artistic letters over the craft, and an almighty gasp of disbelief spread amidst the now standing senators.  
  
'THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!!!' shouted a lone figure from one of the enclosures, who stood forward whilst decked out in highly expensive robes of silks, furs and precious materials. 'Does the League of Free Peoples truly wish to blame this matter on Telsacom?!' The Viridian directed his steely gaze over to the intruding politician.  
  
'The World Senate does not recognize the representative from Telsacom Corporation. Be seated at once!'  
  
The man and his retinue grudgingly took their seats, angrily eyeing the representative of the League.  
  
'It is not the League's intention to cause any form of trouble, or blame anyone.' Spoke the sharp witted woman, who resumed her place as the center of attention. 'We are only concerned with the loss of our shipping. Since Telsacom's branding is on this "Pirate ship", we were hoping that our supporters may be able to give some clue as to how their craft came into the hands of such criminals. Even now their actions are bleeding this world and many others of precious magical supplies, not to mention eating into our own profits… I suggest that as a corrective action, the senate authorize an immediate investigation into this matter. Pending further enquiry we hope to eliminate this pestilence from our solar system, as humanity cannot possibly hope to survive in space with such scum prowling our trade routes!'  
  
As she ended, a round of applause reverberated around the hall, and she looked towards the Viridian who stood stone still eyeing everyone. The senate waited for a response… For a moment the Viridian cleared his throat and looked ready to speak, when suddenly a hand gently touched his shoulder, and the graying man turned about to his advisor who furiously began whispering something into his ear… Harry's Essence enhanced hearing could barely make out what was said, but managed to pick up the words "Telsacom", and "Money". Pieces began to fall into place within his head even as the Viridian turned once more to the League representative, a rather non committal look stretched across his face.  
  
'Since the World Senate has other very pressing matters to contend with, I hereby offer the League of Free Peoples a session in the civilian court, by which this matter may be resolved quickly and efficiently. Would you, representative of the League, accept this proposal?'  
  
The League woman looked as though she were about to burst a vein in her neck, whether out of surprise or anger Harry couldn't tell, and he watched her eagerly to see how it would turn out.  
  
'I hadn't expected the Senate to deal with this immediately,' she began aloud, her voice echoing amidst the cavernous room, 'In fact, I had considered it may take months to achieve any outcome at all. But the courts take LONGER to decide! And I must protest at this arrangement, action must be taken to resolve this attack on our shipping now!'  
  
The Viridian stood still once more, his iron gaze allowing no compassion in the matter, and the woman seemed to back down from his gaze.  
  
'Nevertheless… THAT is the arrangement. The senate does not have time to deal with such matters which are based solely on circumstantial and inconclusive evidence. That this matter is referred to a court at all is quite remarkable… You will either accept this ultimatum or you will cease your representation in the senate. That is the final word and no such action will move me from this decision, unless concrete proof of these "Pirates" existence is found.'  
  
Straitening his robes slightly with a forced breath, as though the act of speaking had been too much to bear, the Viridian looked about with a sense of finality, before giving a dismissive gesture with his left hand.  
  
'This Senate is hereby adjourned, go in peace.' And turning on his heel, the aged but somewhat robust looking king strode from his platform, two powerful looking guards keeping a close escort, their mechanical suits making heavy footfalls on the floor as they left. As the Viridian's elaborate robes finally disappeared through a darkened doorway, Harry followed…  
  
Walking along a deserted hallway, Garcia, the Viridian King, strode unhindered towards his giant royal office, where he often attended to diplomatic issues in private or dealt with matters too nasty to be heard by the senate. Some of which, he certainly didn't want them to know… Coming to the end of the corridor, the walls seemed to widen a little before a lone door that led to his inner sanctum, and a reprieve from all things political. His two enormous body guards, decked out in robes and mechanical armor, strode forward past him and stationed themselves on either side of the doorway, their giant stun rifles that were longer then a man, having been slung deftly over their shoulders. Such weapons were befitting of the Viridian's private guard, who were in fact more machine than they were men anyway, their height and physical strength increased with magic and technology alike. Well and truly, they stood at least a head and shoulders over their aged and averaged sized ruler, but gave deep bows of respect as he opened the gold rimmed door and walked into his office, shutting it with a rather harsh bang.  
  
Looking about, Garcia strode towards his lacquered wooden desk, reputed to have once belonged to the minister of magic, when such a position existed. The ministry under his leadership often found very little to do these days, save for understanding their muggle counterparts. The minister, once a respected and prestigious title, had been removed after the end of the war. And thanks to Garcia, there no longer was a minister of magic. That had been completely removed through underhanded means, not that the senate needed to know he was directly responsible. It was necessary at times to know how to be politically savvy, with wizards and muggles alike.  
  
Taking a seat in his luxurious leather armchair, Garcia shifted aside the large bulk of his senatorial robes, moving his disused wand along with it. He didn't usually feel the need to use magic these days, though in his own right he was particularly powerful. Sometimes he forgot about his wizard heritage entirely, and just considered himself a muggle, though he couldn't deny that his own family was in fact a prestigious pure blood that dated back many generations. A proud ancestry of Slytherins, though the sorting hat had great difficulty choosing a house for him, and had in fact given him the choice, since it was so confused by whatever it was that resided within his head. He couldn't remember how long ago that was now, and promptly shifted the thought aside as he fumbled through some extensive stacks of paper littering his desk, many of which were official requests for one law or another to be passed by him personally, not that he bothered with any of them…  
  
Taking in a deep breath through his nostrils, Garcia suddenly froze, his eyes darting up from his study over his spacious office, where open windows were letting in light and warm air, filling the lungs with an aura of contentment… The untrained eye would see nothing amiss with the scene, with a perfectly tidy office marred by nothing. Though the Viridian had seen far more in his time than anyone would bargain, his gaze swept relentlessly across the room, eyes narrowed to sharpen his vision… He could see nothing, but took in another breath through his nose, and caught upon the air a scent he recognized.  
  
'You can quit hiding now…' He called out, voice echoing across the open space, 'I know you're here Prodigen.'  
  
For a moment there was an audible silence, as Garcia continued to stare about himself like a hawk, being mindful to keep his wand at least an arms length away. There was no telling what actions may provoke someone who didn't need to use one… Silence bore on, until a sudden movement caught Garcia's attention, the air about one darkened corner of the room flexing slightly, as reality was twisted and distorted upon itself… All of a sudden a lone figure dressed in dark robes suddenly materialized out of thin air, his skin shimmering with magic before becoming solid, a set of cold, gray eyes set upon him, eager to shave slices from a stone. Garcia sat back in his chair casually, fixing the man with a gaze that had brought hundreds to their knees before, and waited as the intruder grinded his teeth audibly. After a moment he decided to make the first move.  
  
'Well well, to what do I owe this pleasure Mr Potter? I have been expecting you…'  
  
Harry stood still in surprise as he eyed the aged monarch sitting behind his desk.  
  
'How do you know my name? We've never previously met…'  
  
Garcia worked his face into a smirk as he eyed the Prodigen through his two brown eyes. He was a lean, yet powerfully built man, with layers of well toned muscle pressed against the fabric of his traveling cloak. His hands were slung at his sides in a non committal fashion but clenched every so often to his whims.  
  
'You would be surprised at how much I do know boy. My position as ruler of this planet has afforded me a certain level of omnipotence. Given that, I've been aware of your presence in this world for some time, ever since you defeated the fabled Lord Voldemort.'  
  
Harry gave something reminiscent of a sneer at the name, his face altering only slightly to maintain his emotionless exterior.  
  
'You speak his name Viridian? I'm impressed.'  
  
'Only as you choose to as well. How it is you have not succumbed to the unscrupulous fear regarding that man, I am unsure. Your inherit bravery may have something to do with it, and for that I assume the sorting hat placed you in Gryffindor when you attended Hogwarts… correct?'  
  
He stared at the man who gazed back, not saying anything. Somehow he had an inkling he was right.  
  
'Humph, I thought as much. So, tell me what brings you here today? I had a feeling you would show up on my doorstep sooner or later.'  
  
Harry furrowed his brow slightly, keeping his gaze with the old man as he determined in his head just how to handle him… Reaching into his robe pockets, Harry withdrew a copy of the Daily Prophet and flung it out onto the Viridian's desk. Garcia read it without twitching a muscle, his gnarled fingers running over the newspaper.  
  
"PRODIGEN AT HOGWARTS"… 'Well, this is a development for the worst isn't it?' he placed the paper gently back onto his desk, 'And how do you suggest I fix this matter which is clearly your own fault?!'  
  
Harry's face twitched a little in irritation. Garcia knew very well that there were numerous things he could do, but felt delight in seeing the Prodigen pushed in a direction he didn't wish to go. Vaunted power was nothing when you held a person by their mind.  
  
'I want this media slandering stopped at once Viridian!' he said after a brief pause, 'Not only does this place my job in jeopardy, but it reveals my position to Voldemort. I cannot have that!'  
  
Garcia continued to sit casually, making the robed man uncomfortable for every passing moment.  
  
'You care for the fate of Hogwarts students?… Or is it your family that takes the priority here? Is that why you care so much about this?'  
  
Harry's eyes shot open. Ooh, he'd touched a nerve there, wonderful!  
  
'Yes Harry, I know much about you… and your family. Your wife Ginny, and your daughter, Genevieve. Hmm, quite a nice achievement considering…'  
  
'What do you mean considering?!'  
  
Oh yes he definitely had the upper hand in this conversation. Harry seemed weak at arguing.  
  
'I mean considering your little twenty year escapade of course. Bringing swift justice to a torn and ruined world. Quite an achievement to raise a family given that, but then, I doubt even a powerful Prodigen could be in two places at once… Tell me, was it difficult protecting them with so many Deatheaters after your blood?'  
  
'That is not your business!' Harry retorted, his fists clenching tightly as he stared towards Garcia.  
  
'Oh but it is Potter. It is… the Viridian must know… the Viridian King ALWAYS knows. You may not consider it my business to be aware of such intimate things about you, but it is merely scratching the surface… In truth, I have followed your activities for a long time. Since before you became a Prodigen, even before I became King! For instance, I know of your old childhood friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Those two are married now if I recall. Also I know of the shape your old Patronus Charm takes. Is it not a Stag?'  
  
Harry stared at him with suppressed fury, his teeth beginning to grind slowly inside his mouth. Garcia reveled at pushing his buttons so effectively, and he continued on.  
  
'I know you better than you know yourself Harry Potter… In fact, I wonder how your Godfather Sirius has been feeling since he fell into that unknown oblivion…'  
  
Harry snapped.  
  
'HOW DARE YOU!!!' and he hurled a ball of concentrated magical energy at Garcia, pure hatred burning in his eyes. There was an intense, overwhelming light as Harry's attack pounded into the ageing wizard, a coarse wailing noise reverberating throughout the hall as he used all his pent up anger to melt the Viridian into the ground… As the light slowly faded however, Harry's eyes widened in shock to see the Viridian sitting ever so casually behind his desk, his demeanor still somewhat mocking… He hadn't suffered a scratch! A slight orange shimmering pulsed in a sphere like shape about him.  
  
'Telsacom Model 2 Force-Field Potter. Quite an ingenious device really, and capable of many other uses besides…'  
  
Pushing a button hidden beneath his desk, Garcia's shield suddenly expanded, catching Harry in an iron grip and launching him headlong across the room. He landed with an audible thud some distance away on the hard, tiled floor, and slid a few meters before stopping, retching violently where he laid before forcing himself to his unsteady feet. The look he gave him was the most burning of hatred, and Garcia couldn't help but laugh, though he knew very well that such costly shields were not portable. Should Harry find him away from the office, he would be a most vulnerable target indeed. But there was no need to tell him that.  
  
'Oh come now Harry, I've no intention to fight you, and you would do well not to fight me. Afterall, isn't my aid what you have come looking for?'  
  
Harry paled slightly, but nodded, his voice calming at an astonishing rate.  
  
'Yes… yes it is.'  
  
Garcia cocked a meaningful smile and conjured a chair before him, which he gestured to the young man to sit down. Harry took it grudgingly, folding his arms tight as he watched the King from across his desk, a regal crown of gold and worked jewels sitting precariously upon his head which glinted in the sunlight pouring through open windows.  
  
'So… you're afraid big bad Voldemort will track you down do you? What's to say that even if I do stop the Prophet having a go at you, that Voldemort is really even going to notice?'  
  
'He is as big a threat now as he has ever been Viridian, nothing more needs to be said than that.'  
  
Garcia cocked a suspicious eyebrow, and stroked his chin idly.  
  
'Is he now? Hmm, perhaps there's some truth to that… Though it is rather strange isn't it? He hasn't been seen for many years, few people with any kind of memory believe he still exists at all. What do you say to that Harry?'  
  
'Same as I said before. He's as big a threat now as he has ever been, and whether you want him to simply disappear or not, he will continue to stalk us from the shadows. I've had more than enough of my fill for him in the past twenty years alone, and I don't need to suffer the injustice of you being too ignorant to believe he's still alive…' Harry pointed to the newspaper which still laid on Garcia's desk, and his voice became suddenly grave. 'Should that kind of business continue it will be like stamping my position on a map, and the last twenty years will have been for nothing.'  
  
Garcia looked down at the crumpled newspaper, a photo of a frantic witch plastered on the front page. He had no illusions that this was one of the many people who were scared at the prospect of a Prodigen residing at Hogwarts. Fear was great however. When exploited, one can turn seemingly ordinary people into ravenous fools.  
  
'Ok, I'll fix it then…'  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise at the Viridians sudden granting of his request. It was almost as if he weren't expecting it to be this easy.  
  
'You'll stop the prophet shaming me?' he asked of a sudden, his expression changing ever so slightly.  
  
'Certainly! A media matter is not beyond my reach. However, there is a catch I might just point out. Something of which cannot be avoided… I can make the Daily Prophet forget your existence entirely if I wish, but people are not so easily persuaded. Now that the idea of a "Dangerous" Prodigen mage is in their heads, even I would be hard pressed to remove the thoughts. It is the way things have always been in this world, and sorry to say, there is a distinct limit to how much I can do for you.'  
  
Harry drew back slightly, resting his back uneasily against the luxurious padding of the chair. Though Garcia's senses were not so attuned to the young man as he was certain Harry's were to him, it didn't take a genius to understand the distinctive drooping of Harry's face. He seemed spent of all his energy.  
  
'Then I've come to you for nothing then?!' Harry asked in a matter of fact tone, his eyes baring a sense of defeat, 'Disrupting the Prophet I could do myself, but if you cannot put out the barest of propaganda to deny my existence, then what use are you to me?!'  
  
And at that Harry got up from his chair and began stalking towards the door, his cloak spinning about behind him as he walked away from the king who promptly took up his wand, and waved his hand about deftly in an elaborate form. The two wooden doors near the end of the office sealed themselves tight as the charm Garcia cast began to take a solid hold upon them. Harry stopped a meter from them and looked disdainfully at where his exit had been blocked… he didn't attempt to open the doors with Essence, as Garcia knew he most probably could have done easily. Most unusual… Instead, he merely turned and faced the aged monarch, his sunken eyes staring into the old man in a way that felt most uncomfortable.  
  
'What is it?' Harry asked in a half hearted voice, quite evidently feeling the Viridian's use was spent, 'Why do you attempt to keep me here?'  
  
Garcia stood up from his leather bound seat, before he levitated the Daily Prophet back to Harry, who caught it in a strong hand. He set his gaze upon the Prodigen who stood at a sideways angle, his stance indicating his desire to leave the office immediately. But Garcia knew there were things to be said, and now was as good a time as any. Now that he had this infamous Prodigen well and truly under his thumb.  
  
'I'm curious Harry, that's all… I was just wondering, what it was like for you these past few years? Away from civilization, living off the streets whilst hunting down the greatest of our post war adversaries… Surely it must have been hard? Tell me of it… Please.'  
  
That last word was more of an afterthought really, Garcia didn't feel comfortable asking for anything. He demanded, nothing less… Harry furrowed his brow in concentration, his eyes falling to the floor as though he were in deep thought.  
  
'I think you've covered pretty much covered all of it Viridian. All those years I missed the best things in my life, and experienced many of the worst horrors imaginable. Many of those experiences I fear may be too harsh for your understanding, my wife near burned her brain trying to understand.'  
  
'So you've been treated unfairly in life? Hold a grudge against anyone do you?'  
  
Harry's gaze hardened slightly, his face becoming more angular by the moment.  
  
'Only against Dumbledore. Excepting Voldemort, I feel no anger towards anyone else. He is the sole reason I missed out on my family's life, and I will never forgive him for that!'  
  
Garcia stroked his chin in thought, a small smile twitching at the sides of his face.  
  
'Strange you should say that Harry, your interpretation of events seems slightly different to my own…'  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
'Dumbledore…' and he sat back down again, visibly showing signs of his age, yet kept his stare firm and unattached from the Prodigen, who now stared curiously towards him, confusion wrought over his face, 'It's my understanding that Dumbledore has never had anything in his mind save for your best interests. I cannot imagine why you would hate him so much, unless… you believe he sent you away for twenty years don't you?!'  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open, his fists tightening into white knuckled balls.  
  
'Oh don't look so surprised Harry. I told you before that as Viridian it's my job to know these things, but I do believe in telling the truth. A fact about me that many politicians refuse to acknowledge… Therefore, you should know Harry, Dumbledore only wished for you to gain a better foothold over your powers, lest you would succumb to the strength and inevitably destroy yourself. I was in contact with the old man for much of your time after you graduated from Hogwarts you see, so I was in the know about certain… "Strong" individuals. Naturally you found an kinship with the strength that grew inside you, and I saw a glimmer of the potential you would have should you be put to use one day. You could say that this is the moment that all of your troubles began…'  
  
Harry's brow twisted slightly as pieces began falling into place within his head, and the look of confusion he had held quickly turned to a seething anger as realization hit him at last.  
  
'Impossible… you couldn't have… your weren't even elected then!'  
  
'Oh no Harry, I'm afraid it is indeed quite possible, and I held sway over the people even whilst you were cut off from society… Your hatred is misplaced boy, it is I who gave the order for you to be sent out into the world, not Dumbledore. My orders which saw you turned into undoubtedly the most formidable assassin the Order of the Phoenix has ever seen… and the reason you have lost twenty years of your life… Furthermore, it is your continued successes in the field that has ensured that your family has not encountered any unfortunate… accidents. You DO understand, don't you Harry.'  
  
Harry looked livid, his face had gone a sour, pale color, his fists were clenched and his teeth grinding together in a horrifying display of rage and absolute revulsion. Bright yellow orbs pulsed where his eyes were rolled sickeningly into his head, and for a moment Garcia felt his technological shield may not be sufficient enough to protect him. But nevertheless he remained completely serene, a mocking expression cast across his face as Harry stared towards him with fury in his eyes, stray surges of rampart magic coursing throughout his body.  
  
'You… you BASTARD!!!' Harry shouted aloud, taking an angered step forward with his right hand raised above. Untold levels of energy flickered from his fingertips as he pointed towards the crowned monarch, a clear intention held within to burn the manipulating man to dust. 'I'LL KILL YOU!!!'  
  
Garcia folded his arms casually, his voice a near monotone.  
  
'I think not Prodigen.'  
  
And at that a whipping noise cut the air as a bright red bolt of energy thudded into Harry's back, consuming him in a tangle of agonizing stunning charms. A horrible scream of vile pain echoed through the Viridian's spacious office, as Harry was brought to the floor, limbs convulsing and contorting in a gut wrenching display of agony… Garcia's two giant guards walked through the opened doorway, their enormous stun rifles pointed at Harry's face, as he struggled for breath. Garcia left his desk and stood over him, sprawled and pathetic across the tiled floor, Harry's skin felt as though it were melting off… His last moments of consciousness saw the Viridian look down upon him with clear, imperious authority, his two monstrous guards standing nearby, solemnly awaiting new orders.  
  
'I don't blame you for hating me Harry, in fact, I will be so bold as to encourage it. I have taken much from you in the course of your life, however, your use is not yet at an end, and I plan to take much more indeed. When you leave these halls, you will do as exactly what any normal person does in their everyday life, and that does not include the use of Essence. I won't have you drawing attention to yourself once more in that manner, because if you do or displease me in any way at all, I'll know about it, and your FAMILY will know about it too. I grant you that!'  
  
Harry's eyes struggled to stay open as a magic induced darkness began to settle over him, whatever clarity of thoughts disappearing along with his eyesight. Only the Viridian's dismissive form cemented itself in his mind as consciousness left him that moment.  
  
'I grow weary of this generous waste of my time. Guards! Drag this… "FILTH" out of my office…' 


	11. What Must Be Done

Chapter 11 – What Must Be Done  
  
Letters… It had begun with one originally. An innocuous article, hardly worth notice. And then there were two… then three… four… five, and the numbers continued to rise. Pretty soon they numbered hundreds… then thousands. And worse still, they didn't appear to be stopping any time soon. For every owl that flew to Hogwarts with mail laden talons, seven letters would arrive. Some of them harmless, bare text conveying irritation and concern, while others however held danger about them. Howlers, that exploded more often than not, especially when left unread…  
  
Dumbledore fumbled uneasily in his office, barely able to concentrate on the letters finding their way to him, as unread howlers would incinerate yet another portion of his study. Small piles of mail had accumulated over the past two and half days, whilst bare gaps were left where howlers had done their damage, numerous scorch marks burned into the lacquered wood of his desk… Opening another, he read over the lines swiftly before scrunching it up and tossing it to the floor with a grimace, where a house-elf was busy collecting the discarded letters and burning them… It was most unusual for anything to seriously test the old wizard's patience, yet this had strained him in a way he couldn't imagine. Letters he could deal with, given moderation. But sack loads of them?  
  
Piles of scrunched up paper steadily began to form on the floor, and the house-elf gave grunts of dissatisfaction at being unable to keep up with the burning. Dumbledore found himself tossing away more than he gave true concern, but he doubted he would have missed anything too serious, all of the deliveries said the same thing, and represented the public's burning to desire to see the Prodigen mage put out of Hogwarts permanently and handed over to the clutches of the mob. He couldn't quite understand why the young girl had mailed her parents about the levitation incident, when he had specifically asked for her word that she would not. Either he was losing his touch in reading the school body, or he was simply too trusting. Children did not seem to respect the judgment of their elders much these days, society was beginning to crumble at a quick rate.  
  
Again he broke the seal of another letter, his fingers unfolding the piece of parchment in a mechanical fashion…  
  
"To Albus Dumbledore,  
  
I have just become aware of a Prodigen mage inhabiting your castle. Either my sources are wrong, or you're barmy! Nothing good can come of having that kind of scum around children, so if you want to save any face at all, you'll hand the hybrid over to the proper authorities and see justice take it's course.  
  
Yours truly: Mrs E. McGoobe."  
  
Dumbledore gave another disgruntled sneer as he reduced the letter to a ball of crumpled waste. He was getting tired of this kind of rubbish. And after twenty four hours without rest who wouldn't be?  
  
Taking a moment's rest, he gave a thought to Harry, who'd taken time off work to visit the capital. He wasn't sure exactly why, though Dumbledore had a sneaking suspicion that Harry was out to mend the situation, in whatever manner was necessary. He truly hoped that Harry's increased paranoia would not lead him to do something rash. For that kind of action would only serve to double his problems, the Viridian had eyes and ears everywhere, no part of the world was safe. In a way it was unfortunate that Harry had changed so much. Of course, the old Harry was still there… only he was hidden and toughened by years of torment. To a degree, Albus knew he was partly responsible for it, though not entirely. Not in the way that Harry thought.  
  
Looking over towards the house elf, who was up to his little armpits in crumpled rubbish, Albus gave a quick gesture of his hand, and the elf looked up to him with it's big round eyes.  
  
'Thank you young elf,' Albus spoke mildly, that familiar twinkle still present in his eyes, 'You may go now…'  
  
The elf stood tall before giving an oddly graceful bow, and backed slowly out of the office, never turning his back on the elderly master. It had become apparent that Dumbledore was one of the world's better house elf masters, and the underlings gave it their all to please and impress him, sometimes competing with each other for praise. Albus never really tried to encourage this behaviour on the elves part, but the sad truth was that even now, house elves were still looked down upon with a feeling of scorn. People just simply didn't respect them as Albus felt they should.  
  
Sitting idly in his chair, Albus took out his wand, and muttered a spell that instantly cleared the room of rubbish, returning it once more to it's pristine cleanliness. He preferred things to be kept this way. Though truth be told, it was a stark comparison to his own life, which he felt was becoming ever more complicated and stressful… Giving a moment's thought, he reflected on just what the world had become. Since the war, muggle and wizard culture had been firmly cemented together, the failings of one society being filled by the advantages of the other. It had been a peaceful resolution, no doubt. However, what was disturbing was that Voldemort had disappeared after the end of hostilities, and after a while, the Dark lord simply ceased to exist… When, he wondered, would the heir of Slytherin show himself again?  
  
Strange that people were so quick to forget whom it was that had caused so much suffering and torment. Surely there was a reason for it… but straining his mind, Dumbledore couldn't fathom just how this was possible, and that made the Dark Lord's presence all the more dangerous. If only the Viridian would make the public more aware of the threat Voldemort posed, it might indeed aid them should he return to possibly greater power. But that was a matter for the king alone to decide, and so compelled by the Viridian's authority Albus was, that he felt no other choice but to keep his faith in the ageing monarch. Afterall, Garcia was a just and honest ruler… was he not? As king he'd single-handedly prevented civil wars from arising between muggles and wizards, not to mention overseeing the lightening pace fusions between technology and magic that were now so much a facet of life, few could remember what the world was like without them. Oh yes, Garcia was a good man, and Albus hoped that Harry might find solace in his wisdom.  
  
Taking out his small, ornate watch, Dumbledore mused over the time, and wondered how much longer Harry was going to take. And then, as if on cue, Albus's fireplace burst into life with a shower of green flames, before Harry's robed form took a hesitant step out of it, placing his feet awkwardly onto the tiled floor as he brushed himself off. The young man passed Albus a rather worn look, though unusually, Harry's graying eyes didn't hold for him that cold animosity that he was becoming accustomed to. He seemed more, consoled. Had he perhaps learnt something whilst he was away?  
  
Walking towards his desk, Harry pulled a chair out for himself before dropping unenergetically into it, his expression dulling as he ran a splayed hand through his rather messy hair.  
  
'So…' Dumbledore began aloud, taking the initiative, 'How was your trip? I trust it was interesting?'  
  
Harry looked to him for a brief moment before giving some semblance of a nod, sudden waves of tiredness coming over him as he yawned.  
  
'Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah, it was… "interesting", to put it lightly. Though I'm doubtful if I really achieved anything.' Harry sighed, 'Maybe I should've stayed here. I feel so tired…'  
  
'Hmm. Well, I think you must have pulled something off Harry,' and Dumbledore pushed towards him a current addition of the Daily Prophet, it's front page strangely devoid of any mention of Prodigens.  
  
'You see that Harry? You're not such big news today. I think you've done some good for yourself afterall… By the way, how did you get the prophet to forget about you so conveniently? Did you speak with the Viridian?!'  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at mention of the monarch, but refused to allow his expression to change any as he shifted more so to a thinking pose, scratching his head slightly.  
  
'Oh I met the Viridian alright.' He spoke with a slight edge to his voice, and promptly began flexing his fingers… 'He's a very… "cultured" man. I can see how he can be king.'  
  
Albus took the comment as some form of compliment, and leaned back in his chair, his face changing into a revered expression.  
  
'Yes Harry, he is a great man! I think he may prove essential in our fight against Voldemort. And until that day comes, he will nonetheless be a great ally to us. You do not know how lucky you are to have met such a wise and honorable man Harry, I would have given much of my possessions away if only to be in his presence. Consider yourself privileged, not just anyone can see the Viridian.'  
  
Harry turned his head slightly, looking to his right out of Dumbledore's large, stained glass windows that overlooked Hogwarts extensive grounds and the lands beyond, eyes flickering every so often as a Lev-Wing would zip past the open window, briefly blocking out rays of warm sunshine.  
  
'Yes…' Harry muttered disdainfully beneath his breath, too low for Albus to hear, 'Privileged indeed…'  
  
Later……  
  
He didn't know how long he had been in Dumbledore's office, listening to the man rant on about how "great" the Viridian was, and what importance he would have against Voldemort, but Harry exited to the long winding corridors of Hogwarts feeling flat and worn, as though he hadn't slept for days. Each part of his body was sore and aching, and nothing would have felt better for him at this moment than to find a nice, comfortable bed, and sleep for an eternity… Yet he could not. His attention was still irately held, and he knew why…  
  
His meeting with Garcia earlier that week had gone over badly, according to him. The Viridian was in fact, quite different to the picture that had originally formed within his mind of the old ruler, which had been something of a good king. The truth of it was different, and very disconcerting… Garcia was the epitome of intelligence. Not the good, honest intelligence that Harry knew Dumbledore prided himself on, but rather, the deceitful, foreboding intelligence of someone who's only goal was the accumulation of power, to the forsaking of everything else. And what was frightening, was that Garcia was the kind of man who had enjoyed long years of undisputed power, and knew just how to get it.  
  
For the first time for many years, Harry felt an innate fear begin to grow within him. A fear of which, he had not felt for some eleven years now… His family, and his own association with them, made their very existence a dangerous practice. Despite the power he wielded, Harry couldn't help but take Garcia's threat very seriously indeed. How much would his wife and daughter suffer should he accidentally use a spark of Essence? How would the Viridian punish him for the affront? Harry shivered at the prospect, and made a mental note not to use the ancient magic… for a while. At least until he could figure out a way around the King's threats.  
  
However, Harry's interview did yield some useful information at least. From what the monarch had said, Dumbledore wasn't responsible for employing him. Quite the opposite in fact, the Viridian took advantage of Albus's compassion and monitored him until he was of age to leave Hogwarts, and his life. Harry could feel that same boiling anger beginning to seethe in him once more, as he remembered how upset Ginny had become when he'd left, but he beat it down, trying at least to hold some sense of calm, knowing his anger had resulted in uncontrolled bursts of Essence in the past. But what was certain however, was that Dumbledore was undeserving of the hatred he'd long since reserved for him. Instead, it was Garcia who had destroyed his life and his family. And it was he who had now earned that anger.  
  
For now though, he did what he could to push Garcia from his head. As difficult as it was, he returned to work, casing the hallways amidst students who traveled to and fro carrying all assortment of books, quills and parchments. Perhaps if he was crafty enough, he would not incur the Viridian's wrath upon his family. But then, that would require taking precautions to make sure that his wife and daughter were safe… Too much to think about now, the dilemma was so large. How he wished that none of this had ever come about…  
  
Two weeks later…  
  
'Now then… I'm no expert on the behaviour of children Master Sweeny…' Harry began with a calm voice, as he looked over his desk towards a pale Ravenclaw student, who seemed alone and frightened in his claustrophobic office. Harry had begun bending the student's wand before his eyes, almost towards breaking point.  
  
'But then, I was young once too, and I know all too well just how far kids are willing to… bend the rules.' his hands pulled down on both ends of the ornate piece of wood, whilst a small trickle of sweat trailed it's way down the student's forehead, eyes following Harry's severe bending motion.  
  
'And yet, despite being rash and irresponsible, even you can admit there is a limit to how far these rules can be broken…' slight crackling noises began to reverberate from the wand, the boy began biting his lip anxiously, 'So, one can say, that eventually, my patience WILL snap!'  
  
And Harry broke the wand in half, sparks of energy shooting out from the broken shards of wood. The student stared at the ruined tool looking crestfallen.  
  
'Hey! You can't do that!' he protested of a sudden, rising suddenly to his feet, 'Err… It's not allowed!'  
  
Harry stared wistfully at him from the other side of his desk, through the countless piles of disorganized paper work that littered the workspace. Odd little ornaments that moved about the table at will, filled the random clear areas, looking little more than comic relief to anyone who was unfortunate enough to end up stranded in Harry's small office. One of which, occupied a rather disused section of the castle, far from bustling classrooms and overrun corridors. Far from Dumbledore's office and the Quidditch pitch. And far from anything else that was useful and inviting. To be summed up, the office resembled little more than an oversized broom cupboard, permanently cast in an eerie darkness, save for the dull light shining from a miniscule window that overlooked Hogwarts' expansive lake.  
  
Technically the room was closer to the dungeons than anywhere else. A fact that Harry was not at all pleased about when he originally took the job. But, according to Dumbledore, there was no other place that could be reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, since the original staffroom had been near obliterated during the war. To be sent to this place was to have done something particularly bad, and though there wasn't physically anything wrong with the room, the unconfirmed rumors that other teachers preferred not to walk anywhere near it, served to create an atmosphere of dread amongst the students whenever talk started about the Defense teacher's terrifying abode. And that, as Harry knew, was a very effective tool when it came to controlling people, and kids were no different.  
  
Harry got slowly to his feet, his tall, muscular form overshadowing the petulant second year who stared up at him with his knees beginning to shake. His forehead seemed slick with sweat as Harry walked casually around his desk, leather boots making hollow thuds on the stone floor as he walked towards him, before after a moment, Harry stood overlooking the boy, bending closely so they were both almost nose to nose. In a flash he brought up the remains of the student's wand in front of his face, and the Ravenclaw stared at it as Harry twirled one half of it about between his fingers.  
  
'Tell me Master Sweeny, why is it that I was not allowed to break your wand?'  
  
The mousy haired boy worked his mouth furiously for a moment, before he suddenly blurted out; 'It's private property sir! You can't do that to what isn't yours!'  
  
Harry blinked momentarily before he drew back, taking in a very deep breath.  
  
'Is that so?' Harry muttered quietly to himself as much as anyone else, and he stared then directly into the boy's eyes, making the second year shift his feet awkwardly.  
  
'Sweeny, do you even know WHY I have brought you are here?!'  
  
The boy shook his head in an absent minded fashion and Harry threw the student's wand to the floor before turning on his heel sharply, pounding his gloved fist upon the wooden desk, making the kid jump.  
  
'LIAR!' and Harry pulled out his own wand, 'Accio Pensieve!' he blared, and the boy's robes shifted slightly as a small, wooden box flew out of it, which Harry caught with an outstretched hand… For a brief second he studied the ornately gilt box, and flicked the lid open with his thumb, to peer at the milky white mass of swirling liquid within. A small whimpering could be heard as the Ravenclaw realised there was no escaping this mess.  
  
'How odd…' Harry began once more, each word he spoke driving into the kid like a hot nail, '…that you should be in possession of one of these, as it was my impression that Albus Dumbledore is the only one who owns a Pensieve at Hogwarts.'  
  
Advancing on the boy, Harry touched the kid's forehead with the tip of his wand, before plunging it into the swirling liquid. Images began to float around, and he saw in one, an open cupboard, and two childlike hands reaching in and taking the small box… undoubtedly it was Dumbledore's office. Immediately Harry snapped the Pensieve shut, making Sweeny jump again in fright.  
  
'You lecture me on private property, do you? Let me tell you something young Ravenclaw.' And he pushed the Pensieve up beneath the boy's nose, 'Some things embedded within this box are capable of burning your mind! I know this because I was once foolish like you and suffered for it, professor Snape will tell you as much. Nevertheless, theft is a grievous crime, whether it be out in the real world or here in a school, and what's worse, is that this theft is directly from Albus Dumbledore himself! The Pensieve never lies to one seeking answers, and I recognize those thieving little hands of yours!'  
  
Sweeny stared silently down at his palms, a slight frown twitching at the corner of his mouth. He looked ready to cry.  
  
'And I fear that I do not like thieves a great deal, I'm sure you understand.'  
  
The boy nodded, a small tear flowing down his cheek as he braced himself for a punishment, which he now thought was inevitable. Harry was thinking much along the same lines.  
  
'Of course, since I am not the head of your house… or any house for that matter, it is not up to me to decide what punishment you will receive. Therefore, I'll have it suggested to your head teacher that you spend two weeks with me on detention, whilst you learn the meaning of the words "Private Property". Personally I'm still shocked you chose to steal from the headmaster himself, let alone actually having the nerve to pull it off… Oh boy, you think you're sorry now, wait until professor Dumbledore hears about this. I believe you've just made your life at Hogwarts a great deal more difficult!'  
  
Sweeny broke down, falling to his knees in a fit full of sobs as he hastily began apologizing for taking the Pensieve. Harry looked down at him pitifully, before making his way back around his desk before sitting down into it again, placing the Pensieve on his cluttered workstation.  
  
'Apologizing to me is a useless chore Master Sweeny. You will be apologizing to Dumbledore in person. That I am afraid is non-negotiable, and when your house head finds out, they'll be more than willing to send you to Dumbledore's office directly, knowing it's not nearly half of what you deserve… Now go!'  
  
The boy nodded again before slowly backing his way out the door, just as Harry remembered something.  
  
'Oh! And Sweeny?!' he asked, the student looking up to him with an apprehensive stare. Harry pulled from his pockets a few stray galleons, and threw them to the cold, stone floor in front of him.  
  
'Get yourself a new wand ok, and be quick about it! Our next lesson is a practical, and you will be having a special part to play in that.'  
  
Fear lighted up in the boy's eyes and quickly he bent down to pick up the golden coins, before his footsteps were heard running away down the long abandoned corridors away from the office.  
  
Harry buried his face into his hands as the boy's footsteps echoed further and further away, diminishing to a shallow tapping, when all of a sudden, there was a knock on his door, and he looked up to see Lupin's familiar face poking in.  
  
'Sorry there.' Lupin smiled, diagonal slashes across his face twisting gruesomely as his expression changed, 'I haven't caught you at a bad time have I?'  
  
'No Remus…' Harry replied, feeling his energy slightly drained, 'I just had to deal with a pressing issue. This post war generation is incredibly undisciplined, wouldn't you think so?'  
  
'Hmm, that sounds about right.' Remus replied, as he took a quick look about his surroundings. 'Urgh, rather drab little room you've got here. Ever thought of finding a better office to spend your time Harry? I can't imagine wanting to work here of all places.'  
  
Harry managed what felt like a smile, creeping over his face. It was a novel experience, he'd almost forgotten how to do that.  
  
'I wonder about that everyday old friend, a think the moths down here are starting to eat my files… Anyway, how can I help you?'  
  
Remus turned about, and ducked his head out the door for a brief moment before he came back in.  
  
'Well… you can tell me what that kid did for a start. By the looks of him, he was wetting his pants he was so scared.'  
  
'Just a simple matter of stealing. I doubt we'll be hearing much of Mr Sweeny for a long time, I think I got the message through to him quite well.'  
  
Remus cocked a sarcastic eyebrow.  
  
'You don't say? I hope you haven't scarred him mentally.'  
  
'Little chance of that. I think I was rather lenient on him actually. But I've just felt so exhausted these past few weeks, I haven't been able to concentrate on anything…'  
  
Harry strained his mind for a moment, and remembered getting hit by that stun bolt in the Viridian's office. Excess tiredness was but one of the side-effects of being downed by such a weapon, he should've recognized it earlier. At least he knew the tiredness would leave him, eventually.  
  
'Yes, well Harry, I wouldn't be working if you're feeling dead to the world. It simply isn't efficient for the school, and you'll find you tend to make more mistakes… which reminds me, you haven't by any chance seen the… erm…'  
  
And Remus looked around Harry's office again, before he glanced towards his desk, eyes widening in surprise when they landed on the shut Pensieve.  
  
'There it is!' he shouted with delight, and immediately walked over and picked up the small box. 'I sure hope you've got a good reason for having this here, Dumbledore's done his nut looking for it. I've never seen him so frantic!'  
  
'Humph. I'm not surprised. THAT, is what the boy was in here for stealing!'  
  
Remus looked to him, shock wide in his eyes.  
  
'Sweeny?! HIM? You just wait until I get my hands on the little rat… I'll… I'LL…'  
  
'You'll do nothing Remus.' Harry interjected, Lupin looked to him even more shocked, 'I've done all I need to the young lad. It is quite possible the headmaster may expel him for this, so there's no need to crush him utterly.'  
  
The other man looked slightly let down.  
  
'Yes… yes you're right, of course.' Remus said, looking down onto the box, his hands clutching it tightly as though it might disappear again. 'But even so… he stole from the headmaster?!'  
  
'Shocking I know, but it was definitely him. Here, take it.' And he passed Remus the Pensieve, 'I trust you'll return it to him in one piece.'  
  
Remus nodded, and pocketed the small box, before Harry leant forward.  
  
'Anyway, enough of this chatting. What can I help you with? I doubt you descended this far to ask me the whereabouts of a box.'  
  
Remus's face stiffened slightly, but he nodded, before he took a brief look around, as though fearing someone else was listening to them.  
  
'Yes… you could say I've been meaning to speak with you about something. Something very important that I don't honestly feel comfortable speaking about within the castle.'  
  
This time Harry cocked an eyebrow.  
  
'That bad is it?' he spoke jokingly, but Remus's frown made the smile on Harry's face disappear. He looked very grave.  
  
'That depends I guess… Come, walk with me Harry…'  
  
It wasn't long before the darkness of Harry's office gave way to pristine rays of warm sunshine, as Lupin led him out onto the grassy knolls of the school grounds. He had to adjust his eyes a little as the light blinded his vision, making him stop slightly as his surroundings came into focus. Students who were working leisurely outside, occasionally passed him a glace, before turning their attention back towards whatever endeavors they were undertaking, several robed children thoroughly engrossed in spell books, or with their noses pressed against sheets of parchment writing long, strenuous essays. Harry stared at them, a part of him still feeling as though he belonged at Hogwarts, where life was a big adventure, and everything was new and exciting… He couldn't remember when he'd last felt that way.  
  
As Lupin led him further and further along, the general tide of busy students began to wane, and Harry soon found himself walking through layers of leaf litter, with tall, graceful oaks standing proudly overhead. Occasional rays of sunlight filtered through the green leafed canopy above him, and a general feeling of peace and fulfillment seemed to trickle into him, lifting his spirits. He and Lupin walked alone amidst the trees bordering the forbidden forest, and at this moment Remus spoke, drawing Harry's attention away from nature's beauty.  
  
'Pretty isn't it?' Remus said, 'You should come out here more often you know. Whenever you're stressed.'  
  
Harry took the moment to look around himself, and couldn't help but agree with the ageing man as he admired his surroundings. Remus continued…  
  
'Of course, I didn't bring you here to admire the plants… there is something important I need to tell you, or rather, ask you…'  
  
Harry looked at him with a questioning stare as Remus buried his hands into the pockets of his tattered, old robes. Harry gave a sigh.  
  
'Alright, we're here then. What is it?'  
  
Remus stood still for a moment and furrowed his brow, before he turned about with his back facing Harry.  
  
'Are you happy?'  
  
Harry blinked in surprise, being taking aback by such an abrupt question, but thought slightly on it all the same.  
  
'Well, yeah I guess. Why do you ask?'  
  
Remus shuffled his feet slightly in mild thought, as if the answer Harry provided wasn't exactly what he was expecting.  
  
'Maybe it's just an old man's hunch,' he replied of a sudden, turning back to face Harry once more, 'Or perhaps it is not. But as I see it, something is bothering you, and it appears to be constant. You aren't happy at all.'  
  
'What?! What are you talking about Remus, of course I'm happy. Things haven't been better for me in fact!'  
  
Lupin raised a questioning eyebrow, as he stared directly at the man. His disposition made Harry feel unnervingly uncomfortable.  
  
'Are they now? Is that why you've almost completely neglected your family?! You've been home for only a few months, and you've become glued to your work! Tell me when the last time was that you took time off for your wife and daughter?'  
  
Harry's mouth worked in a silent anger, which was partly induced by confusion at the man's audacity. He did what he could not to become uncivilized and lose his temper needlessly.  
  
'Well, err… the last time? I think… umm…'  
  
'You can't remember can you?!' Remus interrupted suddenly, making Harry twitch in irritation. He didn't wait for the younger man to reply, 'I thought not.'  
  
'Alright then, so I'm glued to my work, so what?! Ginny's just glad I'm alive, isn't that enough?!'  
  
Remus chuckled slightly, before he turned and continued to walk, his feet making odd shuffling noises on the ground's leaf litter.  
  
'That depends Harry…' Lupin called out from a distance, before he stopped in his tracks, 'Do you think it is? Ginny and Genevieve have been alone enough wouldn't you imagine? What's stopping you from enjoying your life a little more, when all you have to look forward to each day is a strenuous load of defense classes with a generation of kids who don't even know what a Boggart is?'  
  
Harry didn't say anything as the words took effect, but could almost feel what Lupin was getting at.  
  
'You can't stay closed up like this forever Harry… what are you afraid of?'  
  
Harry looked up at the tattered old man who stood at a distance, and furrowed his brow. Lupin was close to the truth. There was nothing left to say but that which had been locked away, though speaking of it felt horrible…  
  
'Pain is what I fear Remus… Nothing more. Simple, isn't it?…'  
  
'Pain? That's it?'  
  
'Yes… But not just physical pain, emotional as well… You may have some understanding as to what I'm talking about, as you yourself are different from the norm. Though this kind of knowledge tends to burn people who don't understand. Do you want me to continue?'  
  
Remus nodded before walking towards him, where they both sat themselves down on the undergrowth of the forest floor. The older man sat listening keenly as his younger companion began what was to turn out a rather depressing story.  
  
'Twenty years Remus… that's how long I've been wasting away out there, tracking the Dark Lord and his near countless servants. And twenty years worth of horror, bloodshed and suffering I've witnessed as a result, so you can understand that my nightmares are constant these days.'  
  
Remus sat there stunned as Harry let loose pent up feelings of remorse, regret and hatred. The very emotions that had charged Harry's Essence magic to a deadly form.  
  
'It may come as some surprise to you Remus, but you know nothing of how evil Voldemort truly is, and his power is growing… I'm not expecting you to understand everything I say Remus, but Voldemort no longer has the cares he once had. That is, the cares I knew he had during the war. He seems to no longer be concerned for his own well being, nor for the lives of his servants or of anyone else on this planet… From what I've witnessed, that abomination will not rest until every single life form on this planet is extinguished.'  
  
'I don't understand Harry, how can you be sure of that?'  
  
Harry's eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, his fists squeezing tightly together.  
  
'According to history books, the second war ended twenty years ago. But that is merely speculation, as Voldemort was not destroyed then… The truth, that people don't know, is that the war has never ended, and it continues to this day.'  
  
Remus sat there silently, taking it all in. To Harry it seemed just a matter of fact, knowledge with which he had taken for granted. But for Remus it was a revelation… For certain he'd known that Voldemort had ultimately survived the hostilities, but never did he think the conflict might still be raging. He had heard nothing of any fighting in the tabloids. He shook his head slightly in disbelief, not wanting to believe it was true.  
  
'No, that can't be possible Harry. The order would've known about it…'  
  
'The order?!' Harry interjected suddenly, cutting the other man off, 'The order learnt everything of Voldemort's activities from me! Though I assure you I wasn't completely forthcoming about what I learnt on my travels, which is why I urge you to have an open mind about this… For instance, why is it do you think that he hasn't shown himself since the "end" of the war?'  
  
Remus shrugged his shoulders.  
  
'I don't know.'  
  
'No, I didn't think you did… What you must accept is that Voldemort is completely different to last we heard from him. Not just in physical appearance, but mentally as well. Though much of the evil and malice remains from his first bid for power, something has changed in his mind since, and his behaviour has become more calculating in the years that followed. The simple truth therefore, is that he is not in hiding. But he is in fact, biding his time.'  
  
'I'm astonished that you seem to know all this, I can't imagine what you have seen on your journeys.'  
  
Harry gave some semblance of a smile at the comment, though there wasn't any warmth in it. The years outside must have taken their toll.  
  
'It comes with the job unfortunately. But the story does not end there I'm afraid, no… one cannot spend so long away from the public eye without planning something. And that something I've no doubt is big! Already the Dark Lord has control over legions of Heliopaths from Limbo, Veela from the dark forests of Bulgaria, Giants from the Himalayas, Dragons from China to the South Pole and even… Dementors. And that isn't counting the innumerable Deatheaters and servants with which Voldemort uses.'  
  
Harry took a deep breath, which sounded closer to a wheeze. Lupin just sat there even more shocked than before.  
  
'It's unfortunate really,' Harry continued, an accepting expression cast over his face, 'That the dark lord could have gained so much power. It's almost unfathomable. But I can guarantee he will utilize his armies when he feels the time is right, and I intend to get to him first, before he unleashes his troops.'  
  
Remus looked up.  
  
'You aren't…? You're not seriously going to go after him are you. Harry you've only just come home, haven't you suffered long enough? The order can take care of this mess!'  
  
'No Remus, I'm afraid the order can't. Sad to say, I fear they're powerless to stop him. Not now, not after all this time.'  
  
'But why you?! Why not someone else?'  
  
'Because I'm a Prodigen mage Remus! That is what I am, what I've always been. There is NOBODY else left who is powerful enough to even comprehend destroying Voldemort. And there are debts between him and I which are yet to be paid.'  
  
Remus looked blankly at him, before his eyes narrowed slightly.  
  
'Revenge… that is it, isn't it?!'  
  
Harry laughed cynically, the trees around rustling their leaves in time as though he were holding Essence that very moment.  
  
'Revenge? No Remus, if only it were that simple… My motives are far more noble than that I'm afraid. This is why I've become so alienated towards my family. In all the time I was tracking him, Voldemort tore apart countless families. He killed children a lot… oh, don't look so shocked old friend, it was common practice. Somehow he figured out I was chasing him, and every time I'd port key to his location, Voldemort was already gone, but had left me instead with a child stolen from an innocent family, tortured to the verge of death… To end their pain, I would kill them myself. He knew I would do that. He knew how much it would hurt me inside. Which is why I must not become engrossed with my wife and daughter. I will not give him the opportunity to destroy my family as well, for if he did, I would have to kill them. Do you understand now?'  
  
Remus nodded weakly, somehow not really there. Harry knew the old man would find it difficult to understand, but it was fortunate that he did. Perhaps now no one would question his motives.  
  
'How could you stand that Harry?' Lupin asked after a moment, looking to him with disbelief, 'How can you even bare to live?'  
  
Harry gave another laugh, making Lupin feel even more uncomfortable than before.  
  
'Truth is Remus, I can't. But my family can. And I won't rest easy knowing they both live in a world where such evil is rampart. I swear on my grave, I will pay back Voldemort for every life he took. I'm going to kill him… I don't know how long it will take me, but I will.' 


	12. Traitors

Chapter 12 – Traitors  
  
Eerie rays of solar light shined from the surface of the Viridian King's personal star-ship Paratamizer, a lithe piece of artistic mechanical perfection that could travel faster than most other ships were capable. Two magically enhanced prototype pulse engines shone ceaselessly with an orange hue from the rear of the craft, as the ship's near needle-like form sliced it's way through the timeless fabric of space, leaving the Earth to shrink behind. Within the hybrid construct, Garcia floated about in zero gravity, gliding between control panels as he tended to numerous computerized life support systems. All the while the ageing monarch kept a keen eye on his ship's progress through space, as it flew unhindered on auto-pilot towards his true destination… the enormous moon orbiting structure known simply as, the Celestial Gate.  
  
Giving a few finishing alterations to the drive calibration, Garcia's attentiveness was suddenly disturbed by an abrupt beeping noise, which resonated from the fore of the craft… Turning mid motion, he pushed himself up from the floor, gliding gracefully through the weightless environment into the bridge, where he lowered himself into a padded chair, scanning the numerous lighted control panels and switches for the source of the interruption. He sited the blinking light of the ship's deep space radar telemetry, and flicked it's accompanying switch to bring up a holographic display, which showed the ship's location in reference to other solar bodies. Quickly he noted a large object ahead, and instinctively he looked up through the bridge windows to see a giant round shape silhouetted against the moon's lunar surface… At that moment an invisible force, suddenly tugged at the vessel, numerous stasis fields closing about the craft with an iron grip.  
  
As the ship slowed down to a stop, Garcia stared amiably at the Celestial Gate. It's enormous circular shape, resembling a giant ring, cast an eerie shadow over his own small ship, blocking out the pure, white light from the moon just beyond… After making subtle adjustments to his ship's projected course, Garcia opened up a high frequency communication-line, before speaking into it.  
  
'This is Imperial star-ship Paratamizer, requesting docking clearance for Celestial Gate and lowering of the arrestor beam… please respond.'  
  
There was a brief static noise over the communication line, before a holographic screen suddenly materialized before him, and the youthful looking face of a young Lieutenant appeared from the other end, a badge resembling a golden sword wrapped in thorns, pinned to the left side of his red and white uniform like a mark of rank.  
  
'This is Gateway docking control,' replied the burly young Lieutenant, 'please transmit access codes now.'  
  
Garcia nodded dismissively to the young man, as he fumbled about with a digital keypad. Soon enough, a green status bar had appeared on the display screen, and thousands of secretly ordered numbers were transmitted to the gate through the communication link, where the other man began checking through them quickly. Another few moments passed by, before the ship shuddered slightly and began to move once more, the arrestor beam reluctantly surrendering it's grasp on the ship's metal hull.  
  
'Imperial star-ship Paratamizer… your access codes have been confirmed and you are clear to proceed to docking port seven. Welcome back my lord Viridian.'  
  
As Garcia neared the Celestial Gate, he maneuvered the Paratamizer about on it's vertical axis, dodging communication antennas and arrays, slowly guiding the ship towards a vertical docking port, which extended out from the gateway's main superstructure like a jutting spine. Within a few moments, he finally stopped, and large metal clamps rose from the port, latching themselves tightly onto the hull.  
  
As the weightlessness of Garcia's star-ship lingered, magically produced gravity began to permeate through the airlock as it's thick metal doors opened, allowing him access to the labyrinth of winding passages within the gateway… A personal, armed escort of Viridian guard awaited their important guest on the other side, standing stiffly to attention as the gravity began to take a hold upon the king, slowly pulling him down to land feet first on the floor. A graying man, Commander by his rank, stood between the enormous forms of the Viridian Guard, and gave a strict salute to the monarch, who responded in kind.  
  
'Welcome aboard sir.' The Commander spoke formally, turning about as Garcia fell into a brisk walk with him, his guard trailing ominously behind. 'I trust your trip was uneventful.'  
  
Garcia gave a brief shrug.  
  
'Let's dispense with these familiarities shall we Commander Ryke, this visit is not a social visit…'  
  
The graying man nodded curtly, keeping pace with the Viridian as he walked quickly through the orbiting station, receiving salutes from military staff which he didn't bother to acknowledge. Garcia moved swiftly, as though with a purpose.  
  
'Then you're here regarding our latest report?… Sir?  
  
Garcia shot the man a quick look out of the corner of his eye.  
  
'Yes, of course I am. How could I ignore such information? If the public knew of this, I might very well see the crown stripped from my head, lest I do something about the matter now.'  
  
'Yes sir,' the Commander replied automatically, drawing a disdainful look from the Viridian, 'I understand…'  
  
'Humph, you don't just yet Commander Ryke, despite what you may think you know. My position as Viridian King on Earth is very tender right now. Even as we speak, there are those amongst us who wish to usurp my authority and bring chaos to the peace I've worked so hard to achieve. People like those in the League, people like the half-bloods and muggle borns who go around benefiting from what we've done… even people like the Prodigen mages.'  
  
Next to him the Commander shuddered, giving off a rather uncouth quiver at the mention of those few hybrid witches and wizards, who's power stemmed from more than just ordinary wand magic. They alone could alter the fate of nations, it was only right that they all be eliminated, every last one of them!  
  
'Oh yes…,' Garcia continued, ignoring the many tech crews and scientists who dodged him respectfully, trying to get out of his way. 'Alas, well still live in a world where such abominations exist. And those same forces are eating away at the foundations of humanity. It's our sacred duty, no… PRIVILEGE, to see to it that nature's mistakes are put right. That you should understand at least.'  
  
Commander Ryke gave another modest nod as Garcia walked into an observation room, who's glass floor overlooked a giant, spacious hanger, where hundreds of small, interceptors were being repaired and maintained by a myriad of tech crews. Looking over them, one could discern the words "Telsacom Corporation", painted in large yellow letters over the sides of the small fighter craft, their long barreled Curse cannons protruding ominously. Garcia stroked his chin in reflective thought as he stared down at the military vessels, his fleet Commander standing silently next to him, as though trying to contemplate his master's mind.  
  
'Let me tell you something Commander, your report regarding those escaping ships was unnecessary for me to realize there were problems here at the Celestial Gate. It's become common knowledge in the World Senate that Telsacom fighters have been involved in raids on interstellar trading ships. Lest I remind you that my financial ties with Telsacom corporation places me in a somewhat precarious predicament in the political arena. I hear whispers of those who point the blame at me. At ME Commander! And that, I'm afraid, will not do.'  
  
Garcia looked over the fighters once more as they stood docked in the hanger, powerful stasis fields holding them down against the vacuole of space. He disdainfully eyed their identification markings. The other man suddenly spoke up.  
  
'I told you earlier sir that having Telsacom written on their sides WOULD cause problems. Do you not remember?!'  
  
Garcia turned to the man with a steel glint grinding within his eyes. Ryke knew immediately he'd not shown nearly enough respect.  
  
'Don't presume to speak out of turn young fleet master!' he spoke scathingly to the younger man, who averted his eyes in shame. Garcia didn't bother to sully his tongue with an admonishment again. 'Though you hold the weight of my navy, your position holds little sway with me.'  
  
Again Garcia looked over the docked ships, the dull light from the hanger lighting up his face to give him a haunting look. He ran his fingers roughly through his lochs of snow white hair.  
  
'How many Commander?' he asked abruptly, bringing the younger man's attention back to him, 'How many ships have escaped the interceptors?'  
  
Commander Ryke shuffled nervously behind him, scratching his arm impulsively.  
  
'Two. A cargo vessel and a League cruiser.' He muttered in a nervous tone, Garcia nodded his head as if already knowing the answer.  
  
'Yes, I'd imagined as much. Needless to say we wouldn't be having this conversation had all of those ships been retired indefinitely. You're not doing a spectacular job I'm afraid Mr Ryke, nor are you following my orders to the letter. I wrote to this station, with explicit orders for you to destroy whatever ships approached the gate and didn't give the pass-codes I specified. That you have failed in that endeavor is just a testament to how poor an officer you truly are! Know that I will not risk having the Senate point the blame at me just because you've revealed Telsacom's fighters are docked here… Do you have anything to say?'  
  
Ryke looked to him slightly pale, but fumbled a bow.  
  
'You have my sincerest apologies my Lord Viridian. Those mistakes in my judgment will not occur again.'  
  
Garcia's face was unmoving, save for his mouth, which stretched in a curling smile as his eyes narrowed on the younger man. A long gold chain, adorned with a golden sword wrapped in thorns, rattled around his neck as he gave a brief gesture to his guards, who came up behind the man's shoulders, their enormous stun rifles casting long shadows over the officer.  
  
'Quite right Commander, of that I can guarantee, I don't take failures lightly. Guards! Execute him!'  
  
Ryke's eyes widened in horror.  
  
'WHAT?! YOU CAN'T!!! PLEASE…!!!'  
  
And he struggled in vain as the two giant Viridian guards arrested him with their immovable grip, tearing the golden sword pin from his uniform like a final insult. Desperately he pleaded for his life, but Garcia turned away from him with a dismissive hiss, listening blissfully to the man's screams as the two genetically engineered soldiers dragged him away down the long, twisting corridors. Pretty soon another lifeless corpse would be floating amidst the stars, the latest victim of Garcia's own stringent standards … He couldn't say how much he hated failure of any sort, but then, he found it difficult to describe the elation he felt at punishing fools. Afterall, imbeciles deserved to die, there was no other way but that.  
  
Leaving the observation room, Garcia walked around a few steel lined corridors with the remains of his guard in tow, as he contemplated his position with the senate on Earth, which was tender at best… The League of Free People's was becoming an ever more threatening entity, one that he planned to have dealt with at once. And now that they had discovered Telsacom's involvement in these piratical raids, it was only a matter of time before his own financial ties with them, bribes and the like, were found. There would be no telling what effect that would have on his rule…  
  
Afterall, the Celestial gate was designed for intergalactic travel between planetary systems, not as some "big cheese" for pirates not unlike himself to hang around, and there WOULD be hell to pay should he be found responsible for the attacks... Of course, he had reasons of his own for having commercial and civilian ships shot down, for the loss of important goods and the slaughtering of hundreds of innocent lives that were in fact quite disposable. But those reasons were his own, and the general public would never truly understand, as far greater schemes were afoot that merely fulfilling his own ambition. In fact, so long as not a single ship reached the gate in one piece, or left for that matter, the public need never know. It was indeed a pity the League had entered into this matter. Assassinations were necessary now. The League's representative in the World Senate would be an excellent start.  
  
Deciding on a detour, Garcia neglected to visit the control bridge as he'd intended. That little matter could wait for a while. Instead he took a more obscure route, leaving his guards behind as he wandered through a cacophony a metal bound braces and structures, the gate's internal workings looking more like a steel metropolis than an orbiting gateway. Within a few minutes, he emerged out into a secluded hallway where he gazed about, and instinctively rubbed his forearm which was starting to itch… After a few steps, rounding another corner, he came upon a large steel door which he stared at momentarily before turning to a security keypad nearby, where he typed in a an access code known only to him…  
  
The door opened obediently, and he found himself looking into a small, secluded room, where it's only light came from a dismal little window which looked out into the giant, unending void of space. Somewhere in the dark confines of the room, there was a desk, which could vaguely be seen through the dim light, it's draws filled with all manner of items both muggle and magical that he'd collected during his reign as king. A few pieces he was unsure about, their function not quite clear… others performed no action whatsoever, their sole purpose being little more than ornaments, created to adorn the simplest of homes. But this… this place, WAS his simplest home. Though it could be considered nothing more than an oversized storage room, he felt that here at least he could find time to gather his thoughts in peace.  
  
Walking in, he guided his feet through the darkness to the opposite side of the desk, where he dropped himself into a modestly padded chair… Turning the seat about, he stared amiably out of the solitary window, his gaze taking in the vast array of stars that twinkled and shone upon his face like an ancient tapestry. It was breathtaking, to say the least… almost as if the heavens themselves were flawlessly arranged before him, displaying unto his pleasure, the utter perfection of the known galaxy, lifting his spirits. How could anything compare to such magnificence? Certainly nothing on Earth, that was for sure. But undoubtedly, Garcia could feel himself being hypnotized by such elegance. What could possibly compare to this?…  
  
'Pretty… isn't it?' said a cool voice from the other side of the room, and Garcia nearly jumped out of his skin in shock. Catapulting from his seat, he spun around, deftly grabbing his wand out and pointing it into the darkness, looking for the source of the noise.  
  
'Who's that?! Show yourself!' he commanded, his knuckles going white as he held onto his old willow wand.  
  
'Now, now…' spoke the derisive voice, 'There'll be none of that business, I've only come here to talk.'  
  
And the room lightened slightly to a magenta glow, where Garcia vaguely picked out a dark figure slowly rising from one of the shadowy corners, wearing robes of embroidered black velvet, a hood pulled down to shroud his face. Garcia felt certain it was a man, by the voice alone. But who…  
  
'What do you want?' Garcia asked with caution, lowering his wand somewhat reluctantly, 'Who are you?!'  
  
The figure raised a wand, and Garcia stiffened, feeling sure the man wanted to kill him, but breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the man merely conjured a chair by his side, which he lowered into, pulling his robes tight about him as he stared towards the old man, who still stood stiffly behind his desk, not quite sure what to make of the intruder. Graciously the dark man gestured for him to sit, and Garcia sat down awkwardly, feeling very much out of control of the situation.  
  
'Who am I?!' the man asked in a knowing voice, getting himself comfortable in the conjured chair, 'Why, I'm most definitely the closest thing you have to a friend at this moment Garcia. You would do well to remember that…'  
  
Garcia stared near thunderstruck at the man, surprised at his audacity. But something seemed familiar about him… a coldness he found difficult to describe. And then, as though answering his confusion, the man pulled back his hood, revealing a face of arrogance, a long mane of golden hair combed stylishly backward, cascading down before being tied in a ponytail. Garcia stared at him, and was immediately struck by the calculating mind that resided behind the man's ice cold eyes. He remembered.  
  
'Lucius?' he asked, inching forwards in his seat. 'Is it really you? How the hell did you get in here?! I thought you were rotting in Azkaban!'  
  
Lucius tilted his head to the side, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. He'd lost none of his charisma it appeared.  
  
'Yes, it's me old friend, and I assure you, I am very much alive. I find it rather difficult to believe that you could lose track of me so easily. Someone in your position, being "King", and all.'  
  
Garcia leaned back into his chair, wiping a thin slick of sweat from his forehead, before stretching his arms out over his wooden desk. His arrival was most unexpected.  
  
'Well…' Garcia began, still trying to adjust, 'To say I've been expecting you would be a tremendous lie… Err… how can I help you then?'  
  
Lucius breathed deeply before his eyes darted to Garcia's right arm, where he pointed suddenly. Garcia stared anxiously down at it, where it laid stretched across the desk lifelessly. He shot a look to Lucius, who stared back knowingly once more.  
  
'You know what I speak of Garcia. You can feel it can't you? It's hotter, burning more fiercely than before. I know of this, I can feel it too…'  
  
Garcia's mouth moved wordlessly at the man's knowledge, but he kept his arguments to himself at the stare the golden haired man gave him… Looking down, Garcia pulled his robe sleeve up to reveal a large blotch on his inner forearm. Shaped to the appearance of a skull with a serpent sticking out of its mouth, the Dark Mark seemed an integral part of his skin as it stared back at him. That haunting, eyeless stare…  
  
Lucius followed the other man's gaze down to the mark, where he examined the anomaly for a moment before concluding with a series of affirmative hums.  
  
'How long?' Garcia asked of a sudden, biting his lip anxiously… Lucius met his questioning stare with two frosty eyes, before turning his attention back to the mark, feverishly stroking his chin with a look of reflection cast over his face. He seemed uncertain.  
  
'Difficult to say I'm afraid…' he spoke once more, his golden hair gleaming from the dull magenta light of the room, 'I am not one to know precise details of the Dark Lord's schemes, but if I were to estimate, then I'd say our time for waiting is almost over. Soon enough he will summon us for the final tasks necessary to cement his power over the world. And we must all hope we are as prepared for them as he is expecting…'  
  
That last line felt something of a finality than a genuine hope, and Garcia had the distinct impression that Lucius was referring to him somehow… Spitefully, he pulled his sleeve back down, obscuring the evil blemish, and Lucius grunted in disdain.  
  
'You'd think he would want to get this done as soon as possible.' Garcia spoke in a scornful matter, 'It's getting more and more difficult for me to keep a control of matters on Earth whilst he deals with his own agenda. I wish he would hurry up!'  
  
There was a sudden flash of movement then, and Garcia was too slow to react as Lucius lifted him forcefully into the air by his throat, his snake headed wand shaking ominously as a levitation charm surged around it's victim in a bind. A look of utter revulsion had come over the blonde man's face, which was twisting into a sneer.  
  
'You forget yourself Garcia!' Lucius spoke with an acid tone, his stare drilling into the old man's head… 'Secrecy has always been the Dark Lord's greatest asset, by comparison to your own out dated ways. And let me tell you now that our master is by no means obliged to tell you anything of his plans. You afterall, rank lower amongst his servants than I, if I am not mistaken. And I would imagine that the only reason he has not already killed you is because you are of considerable use to him at the present time. Much of his endeavors rely on you keeping this gateway off limits to other ships, whilst we smuggle our own through. You are already familiar with your task, so I won't bore you with the rest…'  
  
And with a dismissive motion, Lucius threw Garcia against the metal walls of the room, before taking his seat once more as the elderly man groggily picked himself up from the floor looking shaken and confused. Lucius looked quite satisfied to have put him in his place.  
  
'You could say Garcia,' Lucius continued, wearing a very smug grin, 'That this visit of mine is merely to check on your progress, which I hear is quite good given the circumstances. How many ships have you shot down this month?'  
  
Garcia looked at him dumbfounded for a moment, preoccupied by a small slither of blood dripping from his forehead, before he blurted out.  
  
'Two hundred and sixty two. Most carried civilians and cargo destined for Mars.'  
  
Lucius nodded, casually resuming his overt calmness.  
  
'Very good. Though Mars is far from my immediate concern, your orders were to shoot down all craft that didn't transmit our codes. I see you are following your orders exactly. For that I must congratulate you, our master will be most pleased you are serving him so well, perhaps he might even give you the honor of becoming a Deatheater someday, however unlikely that might be. Though I must remind you Garcia… you shall only live so long as you continue to serve the Dark Lord, as he looks kindly upon such good deeds. However… should this change somehow, or you tempt the Dark Lord's anger, then I assure you Old Ruler, you can consider your life forfeit!'  
  
Garcia nodded quickly, wiping the smear of blood from his forehead, whilst feeling glad Lucius hadn't questioned him on the ships that had escaped the interceptors. Again Lucius smiled, his face a wicked picture.  
  
'Yes, Lucius. I understand. Forgive my rudeness… but regarding that, if the Dark Lord will not divulge anything of his activities, then what of you? I don't wish to know everything of course! But… perhaps a hint from you would be helpful, so as to know my efforts here are not in vain.'  
  
Lucius blinked in surprise, before measuring the older man in his eyes.  
  
'Hmm…' the blonde man pondered, flexing his fingers, 'I do not see why not… you are afterall, performing a very vital part of his plans… Alright then, you know what we are about, and what ships are permitted through the gate?'  
  
Garcia nodded affirmatively, knowing very well there were a small selection of ships he was allowed to let pass through the gate. Those who had the correct pass codes… Lucius continued.  
  
'Then you should also know that those ships have been smuggling mechanical parts, of which we have been cannibalizing from others on Earth, some willingly, others forcibly. And from those parts, our master is… building something, so to speak. That is all you need to know, feel privileged I've told you that much!'  
  
'Yes Lucius, of course. Thank you, it's good to know my time here at the gate is useful.'  
  
Lucius grinned evilly, and let out a sadistic laugh.  
  
'Yes Garcia… let us hope you remain useful. For your sake.'  
  
Garcia tried his best to force a grin as a small beeping noise reverberated around the room. Lucius looked about himself in confusion, displaying his own ignorance of technology. Such was the stupidity of some pure blood families.  
  
'What's that?! Where's that coming from?'  
  
Garcia pulled up his left hand sleeve, revealing a small wristwatch, which blinked every so often with a small red light. Holding the watch near his face, he pressed a round button on it's side and spoke into it.  
  
'What is it?!' he demanded, and drew back as a holographic image of a young lieutenant appeared before him, wearing a uniform of burnished red and white with the Viridian sigil of a sword wrapped in thorns emblazoned upon his chest.  
  
'We've detected a solid mass on our telemetry screens Lord Viridian.' Spoke the young man through the holograph, 'Preliminary scans have indicated it's a civilian vessel, possibly a League transport. We're awaiting your orders, now that commander Ryke has seemingly… disappeared.'  
  
Garcia looked up momentarily at Lucius, who stared back wearing that menacing grin.  
  
'Duty calls old friend…' he said, crossing his arms together. Garcia sighed before turning back to the lieutenant, who sat awaiting a response.  
  
'Very well, I'll attend to the matter myself.' And at that he ended the hologram, the lieutenant's face winking out in a flash of light. He looked to Lucius again. 'This is perfect… I've been waiting for a chance to get back at the League of Free Peoples.'  
  
And at that Lucius laughed.  
  
'They won't be free for much longer. Not when the Dark Lord rises again. And that day is close, oh so VERY close!… Anyway, I think I've taken up enough of your time. There are matters to which I too must deal with.'  
  
Garcia cocked an eyebrow in confusion.  
  
'But… how did you get here? Mine is the only ship docked here at the gate… unless.' And he watched as Lucius pulled from his robe pockets, a small innocuous item, to which he held in a claw like grasp.  
  
'A Port key? You're using Port keys! Are you MAD?! One false move and that thing could send you to Limbo!'  
  
Lucius glanced at him, before turning his attention back to the little object which he stroked in his hand, a bracelet it appeared to be, before giving a smirk. He very much seemed to know more than he was letting on.  
  
'Yes Garcia… I'm counting on that.'  
  
And in an instant the timed device activated, consuming Lucius in an aura of white light, before he disappeared, leaving Garcia sitting at his desk with little more than the light from the stars outside to illuminate the room… He only noticed then how cold his surroundings felt, and quickly set about warming the room up with his wand, before flicking a light switch so as to see whatever he was doing. Only then was it that he remembered the precise reason he'd come to this room in the first place, and he quickly unlocked a secret draw in his desk, which he opened tentatively, hands shaking…  
  
Reaching in, he pulled out what appeared to be an old book, tattered and worn by years of disuse and neglect. An elegant piece, he took a minute to admire it's lavish covering of ancient leather, bound at it's corners by meticulously crafted metal shaped into vine leaves, whilst also taking in the countless precious stones that adorned it. In the center rested a small emerald plaque surrounded by golden rose petals, which displayed a name spelt in what looked like an ancient and disused language. Though Garcia knew precisely what it said… Vinareer o' Liege. The book of the wrapping vines… He couldn't describe how he felt exactly, after confiscating this very interesting piece from Dumbledore. Ever since he first heard of Harry Potter, he had become infatuated with how the Prodigen had become so powerful, so quickly.  
  
This was the means by which the hybrid had done so, bludgeoning his powers from a once proud and highly advanced magical race. These beings, supposedly called Narcissans, had left behind four books that held magic of ghastly power, whilst the remnants of their people dwindled on the edge of extinction… or so he'd heard. Personally, he was quite happy that no more of these books existed. The Prodigen had absorbed the powers of one, that was undisputed, and the Dark Lord had absorbed two of his own, making his powers as a wizard far beyond that of even the Prodigen. No doubt that power was still rising as he sat there contemplating it, and yet, he could not quite fathom the existence of the last book, which was still unaccounted for… He shuddered to think where it would be, or rather, who might have it.  
  
Caressing the book with a finger, Garcia felt a brief wave of giddiness come over him, at holding such incredible power. What secrets could this book possibly yield? What magic laid within? Such thoughts flowed through his mind as silent voices whispered into his ears. Whispering his name, and the glories he could have if he would but open the book, and see what was inside… Hastily he drew back, his eyes wide in fright. This book definitely held an evil about it, and he had almost succumbed to it's temptations. He must display fortitude, not weakness, so immediately he dropped the book into one of his spacious robe pockets, as he stood to leave for the command bridge. He would never let this book out of his sight, for as long as he should live. He was right to confiscate it, and kept that thought fresh in his mind as he left his study and walked purposefully down the long, winding corridors, half-heartedly accepting a variety of salutes from officers and mechanics that he passed. For the moment he figured, it was best to try to ignore the luring of the book as much as possible, but deep down he knew that he yearned for such incredible power, and wasn't certain exactly how long he could resist the temptations that Essence provided.  
  
Taking as quick a route as possible back to the command bridge, he entered the metal clad room only to meet a burly young officer who shot up from his chair to give a formal salute.  
  
'My lord Viridian, we have been awaiting your arrival sir.' He spoke in a respectful monotone, not daring to meet the Viridian's gaze. Garcia ignored him, preferring instead to pick out a vacant seat which he lowered himself into, keeping a watchful eye over the dozens of people manning a tremendous array of different computerized systems and holographic technical readouts, all of which controlled the many functions of the Celestial Gate.  
  
Guiding his fingers tactfully over his arm rest, Garcia fumbled about with several keypads, before one touch of a button brought up a giant holographic display of the gate's deep space radar that extended far until the very atmosphere of Earth… Looking carefully at it, he discerned the location of the gateway, before he pressed another button on his arm rest, which pivoted the display about to locate the approaching freighter, which was closing slowly upon the gate, weighed down with whatever manner of goods or cargo. His eyes narrowed at the sight of his quarry, which he zoomed in on and matched the profile of to a well known class of transport ship, most commonly utilized by The League of Free Peoples.  
  
'So… the League has sent you despite it's losses, how predictable.' he muttered to himself, not bothering to notice the stares from officers on the bridge.  
  
'Lieutenant Varras!'  
  
A young man rose from his seat nearby, saluting.  
  
'Yes my lord!' he answered swiftly. Garcia didn't spare him a glance.  
  
'Give me statistics on the approaching ship. I want the manufacturer, cargo, destination and access codes if you will.'  
  
'As you wish.'  
  
The man saluted again, before sitting himself down in front of a computer terminal, eyes flicking over a dizzying number of readouts as the gate's systems scanned the freighter. Garcia sat patiently overlooking the computer's readouts, eyeing the progress of the ship as it made it's way towards the gate. Should the information he receive about the new arrival go against it, then he would not hesitate in performing the duty assigned to him by the Dark Lord…  
  
Small flickers of light, barely visible against the giant, black silhouette of Earth, were all that announced the presence of the large, interstellar cargo vessel, which flew on a steady course away from the planet… As the home world's powerful gravity hold began to shrink, three giant pulse engines to the rear of the ship suddenly roared to life, their magically infused energies propelling the metal bound craft quickly across space. It's cargo of civilians sitting anxiously, whilst they waited for the transport to arrive at their destination.  
  
Passing the first line of marker buoys, which glowed red and green in a line some twenty thousand kilometers long, the League freighter flew on a steady course towards the Celestial gate, which shone like a magical beacon, and existed only to propel ships not unlike this one, across the dark, unending void of space. All the while the captain sat on the bridge, overseeing the transport's orientation to the rest of the galactic neighborhood, whilst also making brief mental notes regarding space anomalies like asteroid fields and gravity storms, which could easily trash a ship within an inch of it's life.  
  
Captain Phillip Hades looked over to the young cadet next to him chosen to be his co-pilot, a young woman of whom he asked…  
  
'Elena? Could you just quickly plot our trajectory towards the gate? We have to prepare the engines to compensate for the Arrestor beam when it snares us.'  
  
Nodding, the young woman typed some figures into her computer console, bringing up a holographic map with the gateway's gigantic halo form displayed on it, a much smaller icon of their own vessel approaching it at a steady speed. Hades looked over the figures momentarily before nodding his head in satisfaction.  
  
'Very good. Decrease power to pulse engines one and three, lower the ship's speed to two hundred kilometers per second and ease us towards the beam. The last thing we need is a jolt on a ship full of passengers.'  
  
Quickly the bright flares from two of the three engines began to subside, the ship flying on slowly with the aid of only a single drive, before the invisible force of the gate's arrestor beam clamped down upon it, halting the metal hulk in it's tracks. Hades sat casually in his seat, happy that the trip had gone so far without incident. He hadn't seen a single pirate vessel, which his colleagues on Earth had insisted were there. It was good because now he was in reach of the gate's defensive weapons, and no ship would dare attack an unarmed civilian transport so close to a heavily guarded structure, so all would be well. Looking out the observation window, he stared at the giant ring of metal that obscured the moon's white glow, and waited patiently until a holograph came up, bearing the face of a young officer, sitting idly on the other side.  
  
'Unidentified vessel, state your id number, destination and cargo please.'  
  
Hades picked up a small microphone and spoke into it.  
  
'This is the League freighter New Hope, carrying civilian entourage. Id number is zero, three, zero, two, four, one… We request lowering of the arrestor beam and clearance for immediate transport to Neptune system.'  
  
There was a moment of static as the young officer on the other end of the line processed the information.  
  
'League freighter New Hope, please transmit access codes across broad frequency now.'  
  
And immediately, Hades looked down at a keypad near his computer screen, on which he typed several codes that were given to him by League headquarters, which he patched through to the gate. All that was left to do now was wait for clearance…  
  
Meanwhile, sitting comfortably in his chair, Garcia looked over to the Lieutenant who was processing the transport ship's information. After a few brief moments the man swiveled about in his chair to face the monarch.  
  
'My lord, the vessel is a Coram class League transport. It's carrying civilian cargo destined for Neptune system.'  
  
Garcia's eyebrows retreated into his white hair.  
  
'Neptune system you say? What of their pass codes?!'  
  
Turning back over the computer screen, the Lieutenant switched through some data.  
  
'Civilian codes my Lord. They do not match any of the combinations you had indicated.'  
  
And at that, Garcia smiled wickedly, tapping his fingers on his seat's armrest as he stared at the floating ship, which was trapped in the gate's arrestor beam.  
  
'Give them clearance Lieutenant,' he ordered, drawing some rather confused glances from those around him, 'Lower the beam and direct them towards the gate.'  
  
'Shall I scramble the interceptors my lord?' the lieutenant asked curiously, not quite certain if his master meant to let the craft pass through the gate or not, 'The freighter IS within strike distance.'  
  
Garcia didn't face him, but put up a casual arm to silence the young man, preferring instead to deliberate on his thoughts.  
  
'No Lieutenant…' he said after a moment, scratching his chin, 'Telsacom's fighter squadrons have done more than enough for me at this stage, I don't believe it's worth the risk to utilize them again… I want missile batteries one to twenty loaded and ready for imminent launch. Let them come…'  
  
Minutes ticked by as Captain Hades sat in his ship, awaiting the clearance to proceed to the next stage in the gate warp. Surely it couldn't take this long to verify a few codes, he thought to himself, checking his watch impatiently. He shot a look to his cadet co-pilot, who wore an expression about her face that seemed as puzzled as he was.  
  
'Sir?' she asked, bringing him out of an apparent reverie, 'How long did you have to wait for your codes to be cleared last time?'  
  
Hades leant back in his reclining chair and thought.  
  
'Just a few minutes if I remember correctly. There's nothing complicated about what they're doing, they're just supposed to run the codes through a computer. Or so I heard… Maybe they've just got a glitch on their hands or something.'  
  
Elena looked out through the ship's windows at the orbiting gateway, her gaze a suspicious one as she annoyingly tapped her long fingernails on the metal control panel before her. She shook her head in doubt.  
  
'I don't think so…' she began hesitantly, biting her lip. 'The Celestial gate is controlled by thousands of different computerized systems. Each has it's own backup in case of power failures or any other unforeseen circumstances. It's unlikely they've got a glitch.'  
  
Hades sat up in his chair, fixing the woman with an incredulous look.  
  
'Since when did you become such an expert on technology? You never studied it at Hogwarts.'  
  
Elena sat silently, not bothering to answer the question. She looked thoroughly engrossed in her thoughts, and began shaking her head as her eyes narrowed.  
  
'Something's not right…' she said at last, and Hades blinked in disbelief of what such an inexperienced cadet was saying. He finally threw up his hands in exasperation.  
  
'Personally, I think you're making scenarios out of nothing. I for one would be happy to wait as long as necessary for them to let us through. Heck, let's face it, it's not as though we have much of a choice!'  
  
And then, as though answering them, a static noise came about over the intercom, and the young officer's holographic face appeared once more before the captain. Hades stared amiably at him as he awaited the reason for his ship's delay.  
  
'League freighter New Hope,' the officer began, his voice a monotone, 'Your codes have been verified and cleared. After disengagement from the arrestor beam, proceed to checkpoint three where you will be admitted through the gate to your specified co-ordinates, Celestial Gate out.'  
  
And in a flash the hologram disappeared, the ship lurching back into movement as the beam's iron grip on the hull began to subside. Captain Hades turned to his co-pilot wearing a triumphant grin.  
  
'You see, nothing to worry about. It must have been a computer glitch afterall. Set course for the gate Elena, if you would be so kind.'  
  
Elena looked to him and grunted, before she typed in new coordinates for the ship's projected course, the other two engines coming back online in a surge of energy…  
  
'League transport is on route to gate checkpoint my lord.' Spoke Lieutenant Varras, his voice carrying over the dozens of other tech crews who typed away ceaselessly at their posts. 'Estimated time of arrival four minutes and counting.'  
  
Garcia watched the holographic display as the League freighter continued on it's original course, passing a second series of navigational buoys. He tapped his fingers in anticipation, licking his lips for every sector of space the ship closed in upon the gate. Another tech mechanic spoke up from a different terminal.  
  
'Armaments division report that all twenty missile batteries are armed, and ready to fire on your command my lord.'  
  
A smile came over the Viridian's face and he steepled his hands together.  
  
'Very good…' he said quietly, and switched the screen's display to an external camera, which focused on the League ship as it approached. Technically it was already in range, though Garcia felt it necessary to be thorough. He was not one to let such silly things as escape pods ruin his fun. Just a few more moments…  
  
The New Hope flew on, it's crew, along with it's civilian passengers that numbered well over four hundred, traveled blissfully unaware as Garcia tracked the freighter's every move, a stark pulse of adrenalin pulsing through the old wizard as he watched, counting down the seconds.  
  
'Varras.' He called from his chair, eyes still focused on the display screen, 'Lock weapons immediately!'  
  
'Yes my lord!'  
  
As New Hope made it's final approach, Captain Hades looked out upon the gate, which had grown in his window. Such a sight was awe inspiring, and he didn't need the suspicious ranting of his co-pilot to ruin this opportunity to see what was definitely one of greatest achievements of the modern day. Elena should learn to enjoy life more, afterall, he felt practically giddy at seeing the gate so close…  
  
A sudden beeping noise broke his concentration, and he turned to his co-pilot who hastily stared down at a flashing red light on her control panel.  
  
'What is it?' he asked, and Elena ran her eyes quickly across her computer screens, flicking several dials and switches. Her breath caught as she read.  
  
'We have an EM signal scanning our hull sir. It's a weapon's lock!'  
  
Hades swore aloud, and quickly grabbed the New Hope's controls, steering a course away from the gate.  
  
'Quick, open a communication link to Earth, inform headquarters we're being locked on by the Celestial gate, they must be warned! They must NOT send any other ships here!'  
  
'Yes sir!'  
  
Within moments the ship yawed terribly on it's axis, turning in a violent evasive maneuver away from it's assailant, whilst it's engines burned furiously to counteract the artificial gravity of the gate. Elena spoke hurriedly into a communication link, hoping to overcome the distance to Earth.  
  
'This is civilian freighter New Hope to League Headquarters, we are on weapons lock at the Celestial gate. Do NOT send any ships to our current co-ordinates! Repeat, do NOT send ANY ships to this local!'  
  
Hades ground his teeth whilst Elena continued her distress call to Earth, all the while watching in horror as gigantic metal compartments on the gate's outer hull began to open, revealing enormous mechanical racks of Saber missiles that rose up and aimed threateningly towards them. Hastily he pushed the engines as hard as they could go, taking power from every system aboard the ship, not caring whether or not the devices overheated from the strain. Truth was the freighter was incapable of performing such ghastly maneuvers in space, and Hades could feel the ship's bulkheads groaning under the pressure exerted upon them. But that was a matter he could worry about later, if there WAS a later…  
  
Garcia watched in subdued interest as the ungainly ship attempted impossible evasive actions. He suppressed the urge to laugh at the giant craft's futile attempts, and turned to his weapon coordinators who looked to him with wide eyes.  
  
'Open fire, destroy that ship!' he said, and within moments the decks shuddered as the gate's full ordinance of Saber Missiles was unleashed. Hundreds spun and spiraled through space, before they descended upon the target like a swarm, their explosive heads detonating upon the ship's hull in a catastrophic wave of wanton destruction. A series of enormous blasts tore the midsection of the New Hope apart, breaking it into pieces as consecutive bulkheads collapsed and disintegrated upon themselves, the massive depressurization of the ship destroying it from the inside out… Garcia looked on, taking in the momentary lull as the League ship began to break up indefinitely, sections of it tearing from each other in a mixture of fire and steel, the calculated devastation wrought by the gate's "defensive" missiles, more than self evident… And then there was silence… and in the dark void of space, Garcia could almost hear the agonizing wail of hundreds of people who were silenced as one, their collective scream dissipating away like a whisper, to become little more than a soft, dim memory…  
  
And not one life mattered to him… not one! 


	13. Enigma

Chapter 13 – Enigma  
  
Chills of ice cold air permeated through the thin, black fabric covering Harry's body, a ghostly wind driving deep a sense of bitterness that he'd known for so long. A resounding notion of inconclusive work was somewhere tied up in the back of his mind as well, and he wondered briefly on it as he slowly turned his head about, looking at his surroundings. Stepping backward, he could hear sharp crackles of dry earth, shattering beneath the fall of his foot, and he instinctively looked about, as though someone were watching his every move… Where was this place?… No matter which way Harry turned his head, the scene revealed little more than an obscuring, white fog in every direction. Almost choking in it's nature, his own hand looking little more than a dim blur as he held it before his face, trying to gather a bearing that would give him some clue where he was, or how he could leave…  
  
A crackle of dried earth sounded suddenly behind him, and Harry whirled about, peering into the unending fog that seemed to stretch for miles. He raised his hand to the air, heart pumping quickly as he prepared himself, priming his eyes for even the slightest movement… but there was nothing but a ghostly silence that felt almost deafening to the ears, as though not a soul but his existed…  
  
'IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE?!' he called at the top of his lungs, the harsh scraping of his voice echoing loudly around him from all directions… There was naught but a sound to be heard as the resonance dissipated. It was as if his call had been intended for the wind, which seemed to pick up slightly, freezing him to the bone. Pulling his ragged cloak tightly around himself, he unwittingly set off through the blinding fog, hoping he may find something of which to guide himself. Every so often his eyes darted back and forth, and he kept at semi alertness, not knowing whether he was the only person alive here… wherever "here" was.  
  
An hour passed by… his constant footfalls becoming a monotonous trudge as he soon forgot himself, not knowing one direction from another, his strength being sapped by the pure uncertainty of things. He didn't know where he was headed, nor could he remember how he came to be trapped in this world… the only certainty there was, was that there was nothing in the world but unending white fog, save for the odd dead tree that stuck up ominously from the ground, blackened bark making them stick out amidst the fog like corpses in a long since dead land. And he was beginning to get hungry.  
  
Stopping to rest, Harry wiped an icy slick of sweat from his forehead, which had combined with the air to make him even colder, before looking around, feeling flat and worn at the sight of so much white, like and endless sea that stretched on for eternity. Perhaps, he thought, he was going to die here, not even knowing where he was…  
  
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted a flash of movement, and he turned instinctively in it's direction, his eyes searching quickly, trying to discern shapes amidst the fog… There was nothing… Though the wind once more picked up slightly, biting at the exposed skin of his face, so he pulled his cloak tighter, still looking around himself with darting vision.  
  
'IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE?!' he shouted once more, his voice holding more of an edge than earlier… and again, there was nothing. Silence met his ears but for the ominous howling of cold wind that froze him. This was beginning to get weird, he could've sworn he'd seen something move before. Was there something following him? Or worse, someone watching him…?  
  
Almost as sudden as the first, another quick movement in the fog flashed right before his eyes, and he knew immediately he'd not imagined it. The fog itself had moved somehow, as if by an invisible force. Whisps of snow white air began to coil about in circular patterns, somewhat reminiscent of a gliding Dementor, hovering over it's prey. Harry stepped back cautiously, his hand raised to protect himself whilst the apparition glided aimlessly a few meters away. He hadn't a clue what it could possibly be…  
  
Feeling a cold sensation drape across his back, Harry gritted his teeth in shock and twisted about to see another of the whispy phantoms gliding right before his eyes, testing him with white, filmy tendrils. His eyes widened in horror.  
  
'ARGH!' he shouted, and released a ball of glowing red Essence into the creature, which evaporated into the fog on impact, screaming… Eerie sounds echoed around him from all directions, mimicking the laughter of children. The air itself began to writhe, and more of the ghostly smoke began to take form into long, whispy beings, which started to circle him like hungry animals. Harry turned this way and that, finding no comfort as the smoky creatures slowly drew closer and closer to him, their whispy tendrils reaching out… Harry ran.  
  
With feet pounding on the dry, black earth beneath his feet, Harry pushed himself as hard as he could go. All the while the fog twisted and contorted, as the creatures followed him quickly, hounding his every move. Ahead Harry could see nothing but that same never-ending sea of fog, stretched out ahead of him for miles, giving no sense of direction or hope… Another flicker of movement flashed ahead of him, and Harry grinded his feet to an abrupt stop as the air molded itself another of the ghostly beings, which floated lifelessly in mid air, waiting.  
  
Harry looked about frantically, seeing more of the creatures emerge from the air, gliding slowly towards him, cutting off his escape. Twisting his head about, Harry spied countless others gliding swiftly in his direction, and, picking out a random one, launched another ball of Essence careening towards it.  
  
Time seemed to slow down as the magic approached it's target, and Harry blinked in horror as one of the apparitions coiled itself around the magical sphere, and absorbed it whole as though it had no effect, before once again turning to face him. His mouth dropped open in shock at this… he wanted to run… wanted to escape… but he couldn't, they were mere meters away, surrounding him! What could he do?!  
  
'GO AWAY!' he shouted to them as though it would make any difference, his voice sounding panicky and alarmed, 'LEAVE ME ALONE!!!'  
  
Something passed through the apparitions then, like a ripple of understanding, for they all halted where they were, staring at him… waiting…  
  
'No…' he heard an echoing voice answer in a sultry tone, making him turn his head around trying to locate the noise.  
  
'WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!'  
  
There was silence. The ghostly figures glided about him sinuously, not making a sound…  
  
'You know who we are youngling… we are that which resides within you. The core of your being… all that you think, feel and fear… we have waited oh so long to meet you…'  
  
Harry continued to turn around on his heels, leather boots grinding into the dirt as he stood there, prepared to attack anything that made a move, despite knowing it would be useless against such invulnerable creatures. Yet there was a familiarity about them he found disturbing… a haunting sense that he had faced them before… but when? And where?  
  
'You wanted to meet me?' he asked with caution, not relenting the tedious hold he had on Essence that very moment.  
  
'Yes…' was all the response he got, that eerie voice echoing around him from seemingly everywhere. 'You are important to us… that within pulses strongly… but no, not yet ready for the burden… too young… too naïve… but all that remains… so much is lost…'  
  
Harry reluctantly released Essence, and stood there in trepidation, absorbing these creatures riddles. If they had intended to harm him they could have done so a dozen times or more by now.  
  
'What do you mean?… Why am I here?… Why do you want me?'  
  
'The innocence of youth, so tainted by suffering… Not ready yet to harness that which burns within… but inevitable… the end is perilously close, the shadows reach out to you…'  
  
Harry scratched his head in confusion, not being able to make a word of sense out of any of this.  
  
'Shadows? What shadows? What are you talking about?'  
  
'That within burns brightly, but threatens to take it's prize… the lure will consume all who wield it… and smite them… to an eternity of twilight and suffering… oh Lareene… you were right, but he is too young. He is not ready…'  
  
The name spoke sharply with Harry's mind, he recognized it as though it were yesterday's breakfast.  
  
'Lareene?! You know Lareene?! Then… that means… you're all… but no, it can't be true, you just can't possibly be…'  
  
'Understanding is reached… the child knows of us… but so little time remains… the burden grows, as does the shadow… watching you… waiting to strike… you must not give in to the shadow child… there lies the path to damnation and terror… seek those who's knowledge you must entail… for the light, flickers but a candle…'  
  
The beings began to move again, but away from him, merging into the fog like ghostly apparitions. Save for one, who waited there, watching him, before it too turned in a whisp of smoke, disappearing into the fog.  
  
'Wait… WAIT!' Harry yelled, running after the creature's silhouette, 'WHAT MUST I DO?! WHY ME?!'  
  
Echoes called back in a retreating form, the creature's image disappearing amidst the fog…  
  
'Seek those whose knowledge you must entail… We are not dead… are not dead… not dead…'  
  
Harry awoke suddenly, feelings of tiredness and wear permeating throughout his body as he laid in bed sweating, looking up at the plain white ceiling above. At the other end of the room, a television flickered on mute, left on hours earlier and forgotten, casting him in an eerie blue glow that seemed to blind him… Fumbling about on his bedside table, he picked up the remote and switched it off, once more shrouding the room in darkness as he breathed heavily, thinking. Another dream… that had to be it. But certainly not an isolated one, for he had seen this many times before during the month, and found himself lost and confused within a sea of white fog. But there was a message to be wrought from this…  
  
"Seek those whose knowledge you must entail… We are not dead…"  
  
What did that mean…?  
  
Running fingers through the messed up lochs of his hair, Harry sat himself up, feeling aches and pains throughout his entire body. Next to him, Ginny was quietly asleep, curled up warmly beneath layers of blankets. She barely made a sound as Harry reached over to her and moved a strand of red hair that obscured her face, before sitting back to admire how pretty she was, even without the aid of light. Harry could see her perfect face clearly despite the darkness, the magic of Essence improving his eyesight so much that he often found it too bright outside during the day, and preferred to do his work during the night. He smiled, glad that for once he felt so happy in his life, knowing well that his family was there for him, and he for them. It still pained him that he'd been gone from the family so long, but that part of him was finally starting to fade, and some subtle level of enjoyment pulsed through him every time he thought of it. Life it seemed, was beginning to get better for him, though there were aspects that he still found unbearable…  
  
The Viridian was one… an old but sophisticated aristocrat who presumed to tell him just how to live his life, and had even held it within the palm of his hand at one stage. To the elderly man's credit, Harry had had felt somewhat reluctant to use Essence in the time following his talk with him. He wasn't sure whether that had been out of fear or the realization that Essence was a force more powerful than anything he'd previously anticipated. Not using Essence was something he didn't like, the very nature of the magic felt like some kind of life that surged through the veins, almost intoxicating as it implored him, egging him onwards. That felt dangerous in a way, as he knew full well that to use Essence was to walk the blade of a knife… the smallest slip of concentration, and Essence would consume him alive. Not knowing whether it would kill him or turn him into something similar to a Narcissan was indeed a scary thought, but he felt more motivated due to the harm it could do to his family. He would rue the day that his own powers ever hurt someone he loved.  
  
Apart from the Viridian, who was someone he could well do his best not to think about, there was the other whom disturbed him more… Voldemort. His dealings with the Dark Lord in the past had hurt him inside more than anyone, and the fact he was still out there, spreading the dissension of his cause was of great concern. More to the point, Harry's main worry was that in some deceitful manner, Voldemort was secretly organizing armies of dark creatures from the different corners of the globe. For what purpose… unknown… perhaps he was preparing to plunge the world into another war. And even then, why? Such questions continued to assail him, even though the world at large had forgotten about Voldemort's existence. It seemed only the older generation had any notion at all just what this maniac was capable of. Pushing himself up from crumpled sheets, Harry placed his feet onto the warm carpet, before adorning his usual robes and taking a brief glance over at the digital clock on Ginny's bedside table. It was almost six thirty, the sun would be rising soon.  
  
Walking down a flight of creaking stairs, Harry felt thankful that the school holidays were finally upon him. He'd forgotten just how hard managing a class full of kids for several hours a week really was. Now at least, he could get a little rest from work, as with the holidays most of Hogwarts students thought it good fortune to go home and see their families, and Dumbledore thought Harry might benefit from much the same. He never had any objections to the idea of course, and he distinctly remembered Ginny's delight at having her husband home for a few weeks… As it stood, four days had passed by fairly quickly, and his family had enjoyed the experience with great delight. Furthermore, and Harry felt real happy about this, he was finally able to come to terms with just what kind of person his daughter was.  
  
Rounding a corner, Harry walked into the kitchen and promptly made himself a hot cup of tea, savoring the aroma as he sat down on a stool and looked out of frosty windows to the east horizon, where tiny rays of orange light began to form. He breathed a sigh as he let the morning's virgin light wash over him, pushing all cares from his mind. This was what life was all about… Only then was it that he caught sight of something out of the window, far in the distance. As he watched attentively, he recognized it's profile as that of an owl and opened the window's glass panes just in time as the feathered creature landed haphazardly, a small rolled up letter attached to it's talons.  
  
'Hello there little guy.' Harry said cheerfully, stroking the owl's feathers, 'Is this for me?'  
  
The owl hooted in response, and Harry rubbed the nape of it's neck with his outstretched fingers, before he untied the string binding the small note, which he read to himself whilst sipping from the steaming cup. It was unbelievably short…  
  
"Dear Harry,  
  
Your presence is required Hogwarts immediately.  
  
Signed: Albus Dumbledore.  
  
PS: Sorry to disrupt your holidays."  
  
Scrunching up the letter, Harry sat down on his stool once more and finished his tea, not wanting to deal with it, surely it could wait a few minutes at least… Just four days into his holidays and Dumbledore already wanted him back, how typical. He imagined something like this would happen, so why was it that he felt so annoyed?… Giving the owl a piece of fruit as payment, Harry turned to writing a small letter of his own, which he planned to leave for Ginny when she woke up. Though truthfully he didn't like the idea, as he'd written a letter like this to her some eleven years ago, just after they'd been married, only for her to never see him again for years… Conjuring a quill and ink, Harry bit his lip in thought for what to say, but decided to be as strict and truthful as he could. It was easier that way.  
  
"Dear Ginny,  
  
Dumbledore needs me at Hogwarts for something. I don't know what exactly but it seems fairly urgent. I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible, Genevieve needs me to practice Quidditch skills with her, and I don't want to miss that. I love you so much.  
  
Signed: Harry"  
  
Quickly he folded the small piece of parchment and left it standing on the kitchen table. He hoped Ginny would see it here whenever she got up, already he was feeling real guilty for having to go so abruptly… Turning for a second to watch the owl fly out the window and into the distance, Harry sighed before walking to the fireplace, which stood at the far end of the kitchen, taking a handful of floo powder as he entered.  
  
'Hogwarts…' He spoke lazily, dropping the powder. Harmless green flames leapt from the floor, and the magical energies of the floo network transported him at blinding speeds past countless thousands of localities, before releasing him in the hearth of the large, ornate fireplace that complemented Hogwarts' great hall… Even now as he took a look about the unusually empty tables, where one was likely to see hundreds of conversing students, Harry still wondered at times why it was that he came back. It felt different to him now, despite finding that Dumbledore had in no way condoned his rough treatment earlier in life. Though truth be told, a lifetime of distrust and blaming all his misfortunes on the old man had left a distinctive mark… one of which affected his life in a negative way, as Dumbledore was probably the easiest person in the world to trust.  
  
And then on cue, the all too familiar bearded man appeared at the doors of the hall as though expecting his arrival, wearing the usual assortment of shining silk robes that matched a man befitting his stature. Dumbledore raised his hands in delight and walked towards him, that well known twinkle ever present in his eyes.  
  
'Harry, Harry, Harry… pleasant you could make it on such short notice.' He looked more happy than pressed by a deeply concerning matter.  
  
'Yeah…' Harry said rather weakly, giving a feeble attempt at a smile, 'Pleasant…'  
  
Dumbledore appeared not to notice, or else if he did, he gave no outward indication. Instead his eyes went crossways suddenly, going out of focus as he stumbled, clutching his chest. Harry grabbed him before he fell, concern wrought over his face.  
  
'Are you alright?' he asked the old man, who began getting back to his feet, if somewhat hazily. Dumbledore looked up to him through his half-moon spectacles and blinked at him, slowly regaining his bearings.  
  
'Yes… yes of course I am… I'm just feeling my age that's all. Do you know how old I am Harry?'  
  
Harry stood there stunned, having never been asked that question before in his life. It had always been given that Dumbledore was somewhat beyond age, that it was something you never asked him.  
  
'Err… no, I don't. How old are you?'  
  
Dumbledore shook his head slightly as he straightened, no longer needing Harry's support as he smoothed down his robes, the apparent pain beginning to subside.  
  
'I don't know Harry. I've forgotten…' and at that he laughed, a bitter tone that seemed most unlike him, 'Oh good gracious… can you see now how old I am? I can't even remember my own age. I must be going senile.'  
  
Harry gave the old man a sympathetic look as he fell into a stroll, Dumbledore apparently guiding the walk as they went down Hogwarts now abandoned corridors towards his office, the students having all but left for their holidays elsewhere. He wondered briefly whether or not Dumbledore resided in this castle alone when such times were upon him, it did feel awfully lonely.  
  
'I don't know what you're complaining about professor.' Harry said in a more upbeat tone, trying to raise Dumbledore's spirits, 'Sometimes I envy the wisdom so many years have afforded you.'  
  
Dumbledore gave a choking laugh at that, his voice echoing far down the stone walkways where the gossiping of young children was once heard. It sounded rueful.  
  
'When you reach how ever many hundreds of years old as I am, THEN you will understand. So much there is that I have experienced in this life, yet at the same time, there is so much more that I have missed, and been denied the chance to do. Death will be upon me soon Harry, every breath rasps… it hurts to perform even simple errands, and my magic is slowly beginning to fail me. But that only means I should do as much as I can in my senior years, I swore a long time ago that I would never be bed ridden in my old age…'  
  
As Harry walked by Dumbledore's side, he thought silently. Life had always seemed pretty worthless in his own experience, so it made sense how chilling the idea was to know Dumbledore was beginning to die. It seemed the kind of thing that only happened to other people… never Dumbledore. But then, he reminded himself, even he didn't know how old Dumbledore really was. Well over a hundred for sure, of that he could be certain.  
  
'Sorry if I sounded forward professor.' He spoke apologetically to the bearded man, who looked to him with his knowing eyes, 'It isn't my place to speak on matters I know little about…'  
  
Dumbledore nodded, turning his gaze back to the corridor ahead. He looked very resigned to his own fate.  
  
'Quite right, but there's no need to apologize Harry. None of us can stop death. It's one of those things in life to which each of us must eventually bow down to in the end… What matters is that we enjoy our lives, and hold precious what we have. I envy you in fact Harry. You are a far wealthier man than I, and I don't refer to the number of Galleons you have collecting dust in your vault. You have a family, and can rest easy knowing they love you. I just don't want to see you waste that as I wasted mine…'  
  
Harry stopped and turned to him, his mouth pursed.  
  
'What are you saying professor? Do you have family?…'  
  
Dumbledore went strangely silent then, and furrowed his brow slightly, the twinkle in his eyes fading. Harry thought for a moment that he'd touched a nerve.  
  
'Once Harry… once… but that was a long time ago…' and he trailed off, leaving Harry feeling somewhat strange, and confused.  
  
'Sorry professor,' he apologized respectfully, 'I shouldn't have asked.'  
  
Dumbledore looked up to him, forcing a smile.  
  
'That's alright… but I didn't bring you here to talk of my problems… no. I haven't had a good talk with you for a long time Harry, now that I think of it. Perhaps because of your duties on the outside, or another reason, I'm not sure. Tell me Harry… do you harbor any hatred for me?'  
  
Harry's eyes shot open in surprise.  
  
'Hatred? What?!'  
  
'You heard me well Harry. I want to know, do you hate me or not? I would understand if you did, or still do, considering your past.'  
  
Harry bit his lip as Dumbledore stared pointedly at him, and he knew there was no escaping this question. Though it was a shock that it was coming from the old man.  
  
'Truthfully…' Harry began, turning to Dumbledore, 'I did once… but it was through poor judgment. My impression for many years was that it had been you that had forced me into service for the Order. That it was you who ruined me and my life, and kept me from my family. But as I said, it was poor judgment, I was wrong.'  
  
Dumbledore blinked at him, staring mutely for a moment before he gave an audible sigh.  
  
'So then… what changed?'  
  
'You were not the cause of my misery, I found. So I apologize if my feelings towards you were baseless.'  
  
Dumbledore stroked his beard in suspicion, but immediately afterwards had his usual reassuring expression stretched across his face once more, a good level of tension leaving him.  
  
'That's good to know,' he said at last, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, 'I was worried that perhaps certain misgivings would negatively affect our working cooperation, especially considering the apprehension that is beginning to affect each and every one of us. Uncertainty is worse than dying in my opinion. It indicates indecisiveness.'  
  
'That it does.' Harry replied, following the headmaster as he continued to walk, the corridor leading down the numerous levels of the castle into the older sections, of which were the original foundations, untouched by the war.  
  
'I've been meaning to ask you Harry, being as concerned as I am…' Dumbledore started, adjusting his glasses a little, 'Essence… what is it like? How do you feel when you use it?'  
  
Harry stopped walking and thought momentarily.  
  
'Essence…' Harry spoke reverently, a smile broadening across his face 'It feels so wonderful, it's difficult to describe. When you use it, it's like the world is at your fingertips. Nothing feels beyond the grasp of your power. It's almost as if… you are a god!'  
  
Dumbledore looked to him with an expression of concern, before he leant towards him, getting nose to nose with the younger man.  
  
'But you dislike that, don't you?' Harry's smile faded, 'You're not a god, and you know very well that you don't want to be… I've seen only a few brief moments in your life where you've used that magic, and all of those times you looked uncertain, and worried. Almost as if you were afraid to reach your full potential… Why?'  
  
Harry thumbed his collar irritatingly as Dumbledore stared at him, determined to get an answer. An ice cold sweat began to soak his forehead…  
  
'I…' Harry began, his voice more subdued, 'I'm scared of it… In those few isolated moments where I completely lose control… that magic… it tries to take me. Tries to consume me whole as I stand there, drawing more and more of it from whatever source I have within. There is a line I know I must never cross, I can feel it every time I draw Essence. Though I know nothing of what it is, I know the consequences of letting Essence control me are… disastrous.'  
  
As Harry was guided into Dumbledore's office, he drew out his ill used wand and conjured himself a chair, which he dropped himself into, feeling suddenly weak. Albus too sat down, but stared at Harry with concern.  
  
'How can you bear to live with it Harry? Knowing this surely you would wish to purge yourself of that ancient magic?!'  
  
'To be honest professor, I don't know that I even can. Essence is apart of me now… and though you may not realize it, it is apart of you as well…'  
  
Dumbledore stared back in confusion.  
  
'You see professor, all wizards have a spark of Essence in them. Everyone save for the muggle population, who use the other inner strength; Creation, which they utilize for building cities and technology. That lone spark of Essence that resides within all magic folk, is something of a byproduct of humanity's casting by Merlin over three millennia ago. For what reason it exists, I'm unsure, but that spark is as visible to me as a candle in a dark room.'  
  
'You can see it in people? Even me?' Dumbledore asked, a hand spread over his chest. Harry nodded.  
  
'Yes… that is the way of it. But at the same time, this spark can grow. And those out there who can cast Essence shine very brightly indeed. Though I cannot always see it, for it is only when someone begins to draw Essence that their spark turns from a candlelight, into a beacon… That is, should an Essence wielder wish to do me harm, I would only know they use this magic mere moments before they attack me.'  
  
Dumbledore lowered his head in contemplation, nodding quietly.  
  
'I see,' he said slowly, 'I understand now… But why do you continue to use Essence when you can feel the harm it's doing to you? Why don't you just stop?'  
  
'My task is not yet fulfilled, a prophesy remains, if you would remember. Whilst Voldemort exists, I'll continue to use Essence in every attempt to destroy him, even if I must embrace my own destruction.'  
  
The older man shook his head in dismay.  
  
'Such a sad outlook on life. Though it need not come to that… Alas, I haven't been entirely forthright with you. I researched whatever documents we had that related to Essence, and it revealed that through the use of particular books, you could aid yourself in using the magic. And without them, you will go…'  
  
'Mad?' Harry interrupted, finishing his sentence. 'Yes professor, I know already.'  
  
'How could you possibly…?'  
  
'You would never believe me if I told you. Besides, you should know that I have absorbed one of these books already. And likewise you should also be aware that Voldemort is likely to have one in his possession as well.'  
  
'Indeed…'  
  
'But why bring up the books? Have you seen them…?'  
  
Dumbledore looked at Harry blankly for a moment, a small, telltale bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.  
  
'Err… you could say that…'  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Dumbledore pulled anxiously at his robe collar.  
  
'You have them don't you?!'  
  
Dumbledore folded his hands in authority, and a stern expression came over him. He looked extremely serious, sitting behind his desk.  
  
'Once I had one. I took it from the Narcissan city below Hogwarts, just after your ordeal with Grindelwald. It was amongst a cache of old magical items, many of which no longer functioned as they once did. I immediately felt the alluring powers of the book, long before I truly knew what it was, so I pocketed it.'  
  
Harry felt furious. Though he knew the destructive power of Essence, he knew very well that without these books in his possession, he was doomed to die insane. What on earth was Dumbledore thinking by withholding the books?  
  
'Why didn't you tell me?!' Harry blurted aloud, rising from his seat, 'I need those books, and by the sounds of it, you knew I needed them too!'  
  
Dumbledore remained seated, not even slightly intimidated by Harry's outburst. How could he maintain such serene patience?  
  
'So as you know Harry, I had reasons for not handing the books to you. Firstly, I knew that should you collect all of them, the power you would achieve would be so great, that your mind would be unable to cope. It would go to your head, and whether through my intervention or not, you may very well become a Dark Prodigen. That is the substance of nightmares my young friend, I will not let it happen… Secondly, only through the absorption of all the books, would you be able to genetically pass on Essence to your children. The strain of magic would be pure as it was during the Narcissan days, and the world as we know it would be irrevocably changed… THAT is why I hadn't alerted you to the book's presence, though I can't possibly believe you didn't sense it at least once.'  
  
Harry sat himself down with reluctance, muttering incoherently. He quickly slowed his breathing down, knowing that Essence induced anger was all too easy to provoke within himself, even over the smallest of things. He wished that this burden had never been given to him.  
  
'So… you were doing this for my own benefit then?' he spoke calmly, pushing his anger to the far reaches of his mind. Dumbledore nodded, placing his hands onto the desk.  
  
'It was meant for the greater good Harry. When I found that you were a Prodigen, I was both delighted and horrified. It was a joyous occasion to know that I could perhaps study such ancient and powerful magic, but disastrous in that you would eventually go mad should you not learn everything about the magic. Had you not absorbed much of Grindelwald's memories, you could quite conceivably have learnt at a slower and much more stable pace. But instead you learnt quickly, and even found one of the books the Narcissans used. I didn't want to give you the book I had because it would only reduce the amount of time until your body would yearn for the next one, and destruction would come to you all the more sooner. Only, through you, it was possible you might chose to harm others. As alien a concept as that may seem.'  
  
'I see…' Harry said shortly, though he knew Dumbledore was overlooking something very important… 'Professor? You know of course that Voldemort uses these books himself, and he doesn't give a damn whether or not he goes mad, because he already is. Look at me! I'm the only mage on earth powerful enough to possibly stop him, and you're worried that I might go mad by using Essence?! You may very well be right to an extent, but if I'm to die insane I'd at least like the chance to wipe Voldemort off the face of the earth. Do you understand anything that I'm saying?'  
  
Dumbledore's mouth dropped open in surprise, but Harry kept his gaze firmly on the old man as he began to gather himself once more. He obviously wasn't expecting this…  
  
'That is a thought I've been battling to overcome for a long time now Harry. A long time… But seeing as I'm too far advanced in my age, and decisions I make might not be in good stead, I've decided to leave the decision solely to you, even though I feel it's against my better judgment. If you wish to pursue the books and complete the Essence knowledge you have accumulated so far, then you can do so at your own risk… You proved to me many years ago when you were a student here, that you were a highly independent person and did not require my guidance whatsoever. So the choice is yours, as are the consequences should the worst come to pass…'  
  
Harry rested backwards in his chair, taking in what the professor had said with mixed feelings.  
  
'Thankyou…' Harry said finally, all feelings of anger beginning to leave him, 'At least we have an understanding… so, can I have those books now?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'WHAT?! WHY THE HELL NOT?!'  
  
Dumbledore gave a rather remorseful expression, tapping his right hand fingers on the old wooden desk.  
  
'I no longer posses them. One was confiscated by the Viridian…'  
  
Harry couldn't believe his ears… Would Dumbledore ever willingly give a book of such extraordinary power to a scumbag like that?! Surely not, though the look on Dumbledore's face seemed only to confirm Harry's worst fears. With that ancient book, Garcia could stand to gain a great deal.  
  
'Why on earth would you give one to Garcia? Who knows what he would do with it?!'  
  
'I admit the prospect is a bleak one, but believe me when I say I didn't purposefully set out to give the Viridian one of the Narcissan books. He was attracted here by your little levitation incident with that young girl, so there was no hiding it.'  
  
Harry nodded his head, knowing full well that he didn't want to listen anymore.  
  
'Yes… yes. Ok then… what about the other then. Where's that?'  
  
Dumbledore's face drooped even further, and there was no doubt he was about to give bad news.  
  
'The other is now in Voldemort's hands. Lucius Malfoy port keyed directly into the castle and stole it beneath my nose. I was unfortunate enough to find out from someone else.'  
  
'Lucius?' Harry queried, sitting upright in his seat, 'Lucius Malfoy?! That bastard's still alive? I don't believe it! And he stole this book from you… how long ago?'  
  
Dumbledore made some quick calculations in his head.  
  
'About a few months ago not to put too fine a point on it. It's quite likely with the Dark Lord as we speak, Lucius is definitely one of his more loyal subjects… But please, don't become headstrong about this, Voldemort has absorbed two books now. I certainly don't want you going out there against impossible odds.'  
  
Harry tried to calm himself down in spite of this news, but he just couldn't, and a boiling rage threatened to burn within him once more. Not just due to Dumbledore's incompetence in letting the books out of his grasp, but that Voldemort was now one book up from he. How was he ever going to kill the Dark Lord now?  
  
'This changes everything professor…' Harry spoke in a reserved tone, biting back his temper, 'I can't defeat him having only absorbed one book. I need more!'  
  
Dumbledore stood up from behind his desk, showing considerable effort behind his ever growing white beard, and for a moment, Harry witnessed the strength he once saw in the old professor everyday when he was a teenager. As though nothing in the world could possibly harm him, such was the energy in his eyes.  
  
'We must use what have Harry, improvisation is our best asset, just as secrecy is for the Dark Lord… Bury if you can, these fanatical feelings of strength and power. Many a dark wizard has been destroyed by far less than a complex incantation, or the strength of arms… We in the Order of the Phoenix are not as unprepared for Voldemort's return as may have been apparent to you in your short tenure with us. Hundred of our spies litter Voldemort's ranks, and we have learnt much of what he has been planning over the last twenty or so years… Would it come as any surprise to you that he is building an army?'  
  
Harry tried as best he could to show some form of interest, in the face of what was well known to him.  
  
'No professor, it would be no surprise. In fact, the only surprise I feel is that the order did not catch onto this long ago, when it could have made some kind of difference.'  
  
Dumbledore looked down at him from his vantage point, but didn't look any more baffled than before. It looked as if he knew full well the extent of Harry's knowledge.  
  
'Hmm…' Albus replied, 'I see you've heard yourself. That will make things easier to explain. If you know as much as we regarding Voldemort's forces, then you'll know he's pulling populations of dark creatures from around the world, Giants, Veela, that sort of thing. Correct?'  
  
Harry nodded in agreement, Dumbledore went on.  
  
'Good, we understand each other then. Of course you know that this is highly out of character with Voldemort's activities in the past. Even back then our spies were incapable of drawing so much as the slightest information regarding his plans, yet now, we know so much already. Strange is it not?'  
  
Harry thought for a moment. The old man did indeed have a point. Though he knew well from his travels that Voldemort was changed in more ways than one. What could not be discounted were certain things about him that were likely never to change. And one of those things was the ability to deceive. Harry smelt a rat in their midst.  
  
'You believe there is a greater scheme afoot?' he asked the older wizard, who walked about his table in a pacing manner.  
  
'Perhaps…' was all the answer Albus would provide, 'Though I do believe Voldemort is serious about an army, it does not seem at all like him to let so many crucial details fall into our hands. As you said yourself Harry, one cannot hide for twenty years without planning something. And in the few short years it would take to gather this vanguard of dark creatures, he could have done so much more. That is what I fear…'  
  
Harry stood up and joined Dumbledore in his pacing, stroking the stubble of his chin as he thought over what the old professor had said.  
  
'On what are you basing this assumption Albus, besides the obvious length of time Voldemort has been hiding?'  
  
'Some colleges of mine that work with the League reported to me that they had received a message from one of their interstellar freighters, before it was shot down.'  
  
Harry turned to Dumbledore, his face puzzled and confused.  
  
'Shot down? By those pirates everyone's hearing about I presume.'  
  
Dumbledore shook his head.  
  
'No… by the Celestial Gate.'  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise, and he immediately halted his pacing.  
  
'Impossible… err, was the ship carrying any illegal cargo?'  
  
Again Dumbledore shook his head.  
  
'No. The ship was bound for Neptune system carrying a full payload of passengers. Refugees all of them, looking for a new life far from this planet.'  
  
Harry bowed his head in dismay, some feeling of remorse filtering through inside himself.  
  
'How many passengers were in that compliment Albus? Fifty…? A hundred…?'  
  
'FOUR hundred and eighty two to be exact. Women and children mostly, all of them now dead.'  
  
And at that Harry closed his eyes, trying to block out what Dumbledore was saying. Images of his own family flashed through his mind as he considered the number. Over four hundred people… and their families destroyed. The feeling had become intense now, and a tear began to roll down his cheek in sadness.  
  
'How horrible…' he said shortly, regaining some sense of respect again. 'Why would the gate fire on a peaceful craft? Freighters don't carry weapons.'  
  
'To be perfectly honest Harry, I'm not sure what to make of it. I had concerns that it may be somehow interconnected with events here on earth, but so far I've had no leads as to whether this is true or not. I've contacted the Viridian about it, since he has overriding authority over the gate, but he claims to have no knowledge of the matter at all. So it leaves me little choice but to find out for myself.'  
  
Harry began to pace once more, walking about in loose circles as he countered internal demons from his past. For almost his entire life, he'd known nothing except for pain, suffering and death. So much so that he had become inured to it, in such a way that a person's death could quite literally bounce off, without him feeling even the slightest remorse. For a long time he had become aware how he slowly began to lose his humanity, and had even considered suicide on numerous occasions, feeling as depressed and isolated as he was… So why then, did he cry for these people? Did he feel some kind of bond? A connection maybe, with those who had perished for absolutely no reason whatsoever? Perhaps his ever present quest for Voldemort, which was yielding no end, had not hardened him as much as he once thought.  
  
Turning to face his old headmaster, Harry wiped some latent tears from his face, cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief, all the while he never stopped pacing.  
  
'What did Garcia say about the gate Albus?' he asked curiously, pursing his lips.  
  
'The Viridian…' Dumbledore corrected, 'told me in no uncertain terms, that he had no knowledge whatsoever of any freighter being shot down by the gate's missile defense system. He even implied that he was under the assumption the gate no longer possessed any defensive capabilities at all. Saber missiles are antiques these days Harry, it's a miracle there are any left in use… However, as old as they are, they're weapons nonetheless. Crude, but still powerful… Why do you ask? Is there something wrong?'  
  
Harry shook his head in denial.  
  
'No… nothing's wrong.'  
  
But already he could feel his cheeks heating up. He never was a good liar, and his quick denial sounded like an all too familiar excuse to the headmaster, who looked back at him with knowing eyes. But Dumbledore couldn't possibly know how little he trusted the Viridian, or for what reason. Ever since his own fateful meeting with the aged monarch, Garcia had proven himself to be a cold and ruthless leader, of whom should never be crossed. Harry felt scared for his family that Garcia even existed, and there was no way to tell whether informing Dumbledore would see Garcia removed, or merely attract his attentions once more. And perhaps, that would indeed see his family pay a grievous price.  
  
Dumbledore stared at him for a moment before dismissing Harry's apparent guilty conscience, preferring instead to focus on finding out exactly why the Celestial Gate would attack an unarmed civilian transport freighter, en route to a distant planetary system which wasn't of particular value to anyone.  
  
'The destruction of this ship comes as but one of many Harry, if you follow the tabloids. Hundreds of ships of varying classes have been intercepted by pirates as they approached the gate. This freighter is the first to have been shot down in this locality, so you can understand it may not be coincidence as it appears on the surface.'  
  
'What do you plan to do about it?'  
  
Dumbledore placed his hands deep within his robe pockets, feeling a slight chill in the room, yet he remained deep in thought.  
  
'I want to know exactly what's going on out there. Though I'm sure the Viridian would have his reasons for not telling me the whole story, I believe to do so is to take the wrong course of action. So many unexplained events are occurring around us as we speak, and though I'm not sure whether or not it's premonition, something inside is telling me there's more to this than a few ships being shot down, as horrible as that may seem… I want to send someone up there towards the gate, preferably under cloak, to find out what's happening, and whether or not something should be done. I'll select a pilot the first free moment I have, they'll have to have absolutely no affiliation with the Viridian whatsoever.'  
  
Harry furrowed his brow slightly, before raising his finger.  
  
'Professor?' he asked, and Dumbledore looked up to him, 'I would like to volunteer, if I may.'  
  
Albus's eyes widened in surprise, or perhaps horror, that Harry would choose to do something like this. He looked thoroughly taken aback, and seemed unsure whether it would be prudent to let him go or not. There was reluctance, oh yes.  
  
'Why would you wish to do this Harry?' Dumbledore asked, mouth still gaping, 'If by some unavoidable chance you are detected, there is every possibility you too may be shot down. I don't want to have your blood on my hands.'  
  
'I can see your point of view professor, but I know full well of the risks. I have in fact, been risking my life throughout the past twenty years. And most of all, I think you'll be hard pressed to find anyone as unaffiliated with Garcia… I mean, the "Viridian", as I am. I too want to get to the bottom of this, so many lives cannot go unaccounted for.'  
  
'But to me you sound driven by revenge. Harry I don't want you walking into a situation you may not come back from alive! What about your family? What if they lose you, AGAIN?!'  
  
Harry went silent for a moment, as he pondered the possible outcome such an event would have. Ginny's vibrant red hair flickered ominously inside his head as he beheld visions of his wife. Genevieve came after that, so clearly he could have sworn she was standing there before him, speaking within his mind… But an image soon evolved, where Garcia stood towering over him, persecuting his family because of ancient magic, and Voldemort, swelled to bursting with power, systematically crushing his daughter's hopes and dreams along with that of every other living thing on the face of the planet. To him the choice could be no clearer…  
  
'I know what I want to do is not without risk. But, if what you say is true, and this incident is connected with Voldemort's army here on earth, then I have no choice but to go. To send anyone else would be to jeopardize this.'  
  
Dumbledore looked highly reluctant, and for a brief moment Harry felt sure he would once again ask him to reconsider… yet he didn't, instead nodding in determination, that twinkle once again returning to his eyes.  
  
'Very well… if that will be your choice, I will do everything I can to help fulfill that. The soonest I can prepare you for this is two days. In that time I suggest you make some alternate arrangements for any plans you might've had, and inform your family you will be absent for some time. As for me, I must ready you a ship for the journey… mine will do.'  
  
Harry looked to Dumbledore in surprise.  
  
'You have a private ship? When did you get that?'  
  
'Some time ago, I can't tell you how exactly, I cannot remember. But it carries a cloak generator onboard, though adhering to the law I've never activated it, so you must use it at your own risk. I'm still quite reluctant to use technology, though it is intriguing… Anyway, you should get going, I'll expect to see you here again by Monday morning, everything should be ready by then…'  
  
Harry stared at the wearied professor, and he felt a touch of concern.  
  
'Professor? Do you want me to go through with this? How do you feel about my decision?'  
  
Dumbledore looked back at him with that same determination, though also with a tinge of sadness inside, but determined nonetheless.  
  
'I fear for you lad… but the decision is yours, and you must do what you feel is right, for the greater good. Too much is at stake right now Harry, and our old enemy is growing stronger by the minute. I can feel it, strangling the earth… We must break that strangle hold, and though many of us may choose to deny it, you are as you said before, our last hope…'  
  
It was a hard an arduous wait after Harry's departure from Dumbledore's office later that day. The minutes seemed to tick by at a third of the speed, thus increasing his trepidation. Yet no sooner had he informed his family he may not be around for a while, than two days had passed in the blink of an eye, and he found himself wondering whether undertaking this venture was indeed the right choice to have made. But nevertheless, feelings inside told him of what was at stake, and he solemnly placed his faith in his spur of the moment decision.  
  
By next morning he would have left the planet, on a journey to find answers to that which none could explain. He half hoped he would learn much, wherever his new found ship would take him, and half hoped he wouldn't. But by his will or not, little did Harry realize the chain of events that would begin with this bold move.  
  
And little did he suspect… the horrors that awaited him there… 


	14. Broken Alliances

Chapter 14 – Broken Alliances

Harry looked aimlessly out the ship's window, distracted by the Earth's enormous silhouette that seemed to grow smaller and smaller in his eyes, when in truth, the ship he was traveling in made a steady course away from the blue planet. To his left, a co-pilot he'd gotten to know for only a few moments before launch, flicked numerous dials and switches as their borrowed vessel finally tore free of the Earth's gravitational pull, which resisted their escape. Harry breathed slowly, his thoughts of blissful nostalgia beginning to deepen as he watched the world shrink before him… That planet held so many memories, good and bad, and it seemed most odd that he should find himself leaving it in order to save it.

His co-pilot, Colin being his name, steered the ship with one hand as he worked various panels that regulated power flows and ventilation systems. He looked serenely in control, though Harry admitted to himself, he could probably do better on his own… Dumbledore had been reluctant to tell him why he had the other man join him in this endeavor, when he'd borrowed the ship, though he did recall hearing the words; "keep him calm" said somewhere in the equation, but as to what that meant exactly, he was unsure. Regardless, whatever brief conversation he'd had with the younger man, Harry could feel from the outset that he was little more than a nuisance to be around, and he was very much hoping he might drop the irritation off at the nearest space port, assuming of course that he would actually pass one. He honestly didn't know where this trip would take him, though he kept his eyes keen as he scanned the blank space ahead of the ship, trying to find some clue as to what the destruction of civilian vessels might mean, and whether or not they were related to Voldemort's ever growing army on Earth. Though where to begin exactly, THAT was the challenge.

A beeping noise reverberated from the co-pilot's chair, and Harry turned about to see Colin flick a switch to bring up a large holographic monitor in front of his face, of which he watched with curiosity as several flashing icons appeared.

'We have another ship on radar,' Colin said with enthusiasm, clearly expressing his status as an amateur, 'It's at ten thousand kilometers and closing. I'll activate the cloak…'

Harry barely bothered to give a nod, sure enough in the youth's abilities to let him enjoy himself for a while, though he made a distinctive effort to look ahead through the view slits, as the sun's rays began to shine towards the detected vessel.

'Our ship is cloaked, is it not?' Harry asked briefly, receiving a quick nod from the other man. 'Hmm… cut the engines if you would Colin.'

'Cut them? But why? We're under cloak and invisible to their sensors… why would you want to…?'

Harry looked over to him with a streak of impatience, dearly hoping his young companion wouldn't contradict his orders for the entire trip.

'I'd very much like to take a closer look at the other ship, so as to make the most of my time up here. Now if you please, cut… the… engines.'

Colin stared back mutely for a second before grumbling under his breath. Slowly he eased back on his control columns to bring the ship's speed down to a gentle stop, leaving them to float in the vacuole of space as the other craft approached at a slow speed. They both stared curiously out the vision slits as the metal hulk neared them at a snails pace.

'What type of ship do you think it is? I can't match it's profile with any recorded vessels.' Colin asked, his gaze alternating between a computer readout and the approaching vessel, 'And it's coming in awfully slow…'

Harry watched it in silence, trying to pinpoint identification details as sunlight shone upon it, gleaming off it's metal hull.

'Let's find out shall we…?' he replied to the over curious co-pilot, who returned an unsatisfied frown, his young age giving him a certain level of impatience. Harry however, found himself in his best form when waiting. It was a trait you acquired when tracking an equally patient enemy… 'Now then, let's take a look at you…' The mysterious ship propelled itself ever so slowly to the veritable right of their own vessel, and both Harry and his companion followed it with their gaze, seeing at last just what they were dealing with…

To Harry's surprise, the vessel had League markings written neatly in orange lettering from one end of it to the other. But more surprising, perhaps shocking, was that there was little remaining of it that could really be called a ship at all. Giant, melted holes checkered the right-hand side of the vessel, being worn like enormous wounds that penetrated deep within its alloy shell. Harry could quite easily see numerous bulkheads and levels, whilst internal fires raged within like some unholy inferno. He couldn't understand how anything could possibly survive onboard, and vaguely he noted the sporadic nature of it's engines, which flickered on and off as though unable to function normally. In short, it was a floating wreck, and he felt sorry for whatever people were still trapped aboard, as the natural state of the ship would ultimately negate it's ability to re-enter Earth's atmosphere in one piece. They were destined to die a horrible, fiery death.

'What could possibly do that to a ship?' Harry muttered to himself as much as anyone, staring amiably as the stricken vessel finally disappeared from visual range, back towards Earth. Colin looked over his scanners as another beeping noise reverberated throughout the cockpit, and as he looked up, he pointed towards a large cluster of blinking green shapes that were present on his radar.

'There…' he said hoarsely, indicating to the flickering mass, 'We should see it…'

Harry looked once more out through the forward vision slits, using his enhanced eyesight to his maximum ability as he strained to see what the radar had picked up. For much of what was ahead, there was little more than darkness that stretched on for an eternity, until suddenly, shapes appeared. Giant forms of burnished metal materialized from nowhere, rays of sun revealing their presence to the naked eye. Hatches, panels, batteries of bristling weapons… it wasn't long before he knew he was looking at not one, but over a hundred warships of various classes, spread across the event horizon like an enormous swarm, with the Celestial gate floating ominously in the background. From first glance alone Harry could identify Nymph class attack ships, Facade class gun frigates, and even dreaded Phantom class Cruisers, which themselves were monolithic pieces of mechanical terror, capable of unleashing hailstorms of tremendous destructive power.

Colin whistled in awe as the full scale of the space-bound fleet was revealed before him.

'That's the Viridian's Navy! Merlin's beard I can't believe I'm seeing this… there has to be over two hundred warships here!'

'He has a Navy?' Harry asked with a touch of skepticism, 'I thought that was all a load of rubbish.'

'Oh no professor Potter,' Colin replied, inching forward in his seat, 'It is quite true… that is, I've always believed he's possessed a large military fleet. You cannot govern a planet without one right? I think this is probably the culprit for that damaged ship…'

Harry stayed silent, watching the Viridian's fleet suspiciously whilst biting his lip. Colin put on a disbelieving face.

'What? Don't you think so?'

'No…' Harry replied shortly, 'I don't think so. If that fleet truly wished to destroy that League craft, it could have annihilated it outright. The weapons on those warships are more than capable of that… no, I don't think this is our answer. My guess is that Garcia sent these ships here to make it look like he's dealing with the pirate threat. If there even is a threat. Judging by the state of that other vessel though, I'd say these measures are having little effect.'

Colin passed him a rather bemused look.

'Garcia? Who's Garcia?'

Harry nearly choked, but then realised that most people seldom saw the Viridian, let alone knew what his real name was. He turned away dismissively.

'Never mind.'

'Soooo…' Colin began, a hesitant streak apparent in his voice, 'If this fleet didn't do it, then what did?'

'I'm not sure… but I hope it's not what I fear. Accelerate to cruising speed, and keep the cloak active. I don't want any unnecessary attention.'

'Right.'

As Colin pushed forward on the control sticks, their ship began to quickly pick up speed, accelerating through the Viridian's fleet which floated idly as though waiting for further orders. Harry hoped very much that the cloak of their ship would keep them invisible from prying eyes, but he kept his fingers crossed all the same as they maneuvered through the mechanical masses, often coming within meters of the enormous Phantom class cruisers, which reverberated with the eerie hum of their engines as they cast shadows over them. Giant gun emplacements lit up by ambient lights across the warships metal hull, put the size of their own vessel into stark comparison. Harry could've sworn he heard Colin gulp in anxiety when they passed one particularly menacing weapon, which bristled with magical arcs of energy as though preparing to fire.

'Relax…' Harry whispered in a level tone, receiving a terrified glance from his co-pilot, 'I heard some of these vessels can detect an erratic heartbeat.'

If he was hoping that would calm the nerves of his annoying companion, then he was severely mistaken. Colin's eyes widened even further as he stared toward the gothic form of the Phantom Cruiser, a cold sweat dripping from his brow. Harry shook his head in dismay at the younger man's inability to handle pressured situations, but nonetheless kept a keen eye on his surroundings, watching for even the slightest movement that might indicate hostile intentions by any of Garcia's fleet. He was still at a loss as to what it was doing here in orbit around the earth, but had a deep resounding sense that this was not the answer he was searching for.

"Search their minds Harry…" spoke a familiar sinuous voice in Harry's head, "Use Essence my boy, learn the motives of your foe… USE IT!"

Harry did his best to push the Essence spawned being from his mind, knowing it was a sign he was on the threshold of going mad… How he needed the other Narcissan books. It was becoming apparent to him just how much of a burden this Essence magic was, now that it threatened to consume him alive.

"Wait a second…" he thought to himself suddenly, stroking his chin, "Essence is a burden…? Yes… that's it… that's what the dream meant!" Realization hit him as to the meaning behind his latest vision, of which he could not believe he had missed before… oh he was so foolish not to have known earlier.

'What dream?' Colin said suddenly, and Harry realized he had spoken aloud.

'Nothing! No, don't worry about it… err, just something I've been turning over in my head, that's all. Oh, by the way, watch your speed lad, I don't want them picking up on our fuel trail.'

Colin squinted suspiciously towards him, but dismissed whatever thought he had, and eased back off the controls whilst keeping the ship at a level speed as they passed the final rows of picket ships. Leaving the enormous fleet behind, they headed towards the void of space near the Celestial gate where the League freighter was reported to have been shot down. Perhaps now, Harry thought to himself, they might actually find some answers. So much rested on this, he mustn't fail.

'Ok then… we're coming up on the ship's last reported co-ordinates.' Colin said as he mucked around with numerous dials. Harry looked amiably out of the ship's windows searching for… what, he didn't know exactly, something perhaps. Slowing down, their craft ceased activity in the rear engines and floated momentarily, scanning the surrounding space for life signs. As if any were to be found, Harry thought it amusing to think Colin would assume life survived the freighter tragedy. Such it was to be young and naïve, though he let him continue, until after a few frustrating minutes, his co-pilot shook his head and stopped searching for life forms, residing himself to just sulking over how wrong he had been to bother looking in the first place. Harry sighed…

'Don't feel bad my boy, I hadn't expected anyone to survive here. The possibility of living through an explosion in space is highly remote.'

Colin stared back grumpily, but Harry shrugged him off. Far in the distance, the Celestial gate shimmered like a halo, and he dimly remembered a time roughly ten years ago, when the Viridian opened the gate for travel between the numerous colonies that had been established throughout the galaxy. There was such fanfare involved with the entire ordeal, with enormous crowds cheering as television covered the opening ceremony, bands and performers displaying their skills to the revelers of a new age. It seemed almost peaceful, that moment in history. The initial shock of wizards and muggles coming together had finally begun to level out, and prosperity was occurring everywhere. It had seemed natural that space should become the new frontier, though everything that had transpired since then had served only to ridicule those achievements. As though the blood and sacrifice to whom everything was owed simply ceased to be of value, cast aside like remnants of a bygone era. Harry felt determined to get to the bottom of this plot quickly, and so he didn't feel compelled to trust all his fortunes to the whims of a machine, it was time he knew, that he should take matters into his own hands…

'Steady your scanners Colin,' he said in a level tone, receiving an odd look from his co-pilot, 'I'll search for life in a less contemporary manner.'

And reluctantly, he opened himself to Essence, knowing the Viridian could not possibly detect its use this far into space… A nimbus of ancient magic embroiled him from the deep chasms of his mind as he closed his eyes, though the magic would be invisible to the eyes of a non-Essence user, being little more than spirit in the way it formed… Expanding the scope of his mind, Harry took in the vast array of space around him, reaching forth with tendrils of Essence enhanced thought to probe the fabric of reality in search of life forms, no matter how minute. Such thought would be impossible for a normal person, whether they be wizard or muggle, as it resided on a level far deeper than human meditation, yet it allowed for so much more than mere sensations could describe. Through eyes that seemed not to be his own, Harry's mind became one with the vacuole of space, as he sensed for… a presence, of some kind, though he was unsure what exactly. The limits of his magical knowledge became apparent with the seemingly invisible wall of thought that stopped him from expanding his mind further into the material universe, and so he yearned once more for the subtle taste of primeval skills, born only of the ancient Narcissan books. Oh how he longed for those books…

Harry's eyes snapped open at once, a sense of urgency apparent as he felt a tremor of Essence surge within him. Colin stared back with a puzzled look, not quite understanding of what Harry felt. Something was coming…

'Are you certain our cloak is raised?!' Harry asked the bemused man, trying to break him out of his reverie. Colin rolled his eyes as if checking were a major chore.

'For the hundredth time, yes the cloak is raised. Why?'

'I felt something… nearing us. I want to know what's out there…'

A sleek ship of burnished metal appeared suddenly across their path, surprising Colin at realizing Harry was right. Resembling a winged needle, two glowing engines protruding from it's rear propelled it forward at an incredible speed, making it appear little more than a blur even to Harry, whose trained eyes adjusted frantically to keep up. Colin stared at it for a brief millisecond before consulting his computers as the unusual vessel zipped out of visual range. Hundreds of ship silhouettes flickered across his screens at his command, and he hoped he might match one so as to identify the vessel… But none did.

'I don't understand it…' Colin piped frustratingly, banging an impatient fist down upon his control panels, 'The computer doesn't even recognize the class of ship. It's almost as if the thing don't exist.'

Harry stroked his chin in thought, turning his gaze to the inexperienced co-pilot.

'That's probably because it doesn't. The ship must be a private vessel of some kind, like a yacht or something.'

Colin sniffed in doubt.

'A yacht?! Rubbish! Who do you know that could possibly afford a yacht of that size?'

'Can you think of no one?' Harry replied, crossing his arms, 'You have limited perception I think…'

Furrowing his brow, Colin burrowed himself in thought at the comment, before he looked up seemingly affronted.

'You don't think… not the Viridian? THE Viridian himself?!'

Harry nodded as he flicked his gaze out the cabin windows, where the black ship was little more than a shining orb as it sped on.

'I do indeed believe the Viridian owns that ship. However, what I find confusing is the exact reason he would be out here in space, so close to the Celestial gate. Look out the windows, that's where he's headed.'

Colin looked through the glass in the Gate's direction, watching the minute speck of burnished metal close in upon it. Harry sat in a knowing posture, his arms crossed.

'Why would he be going there…?' Colin asked faintly, stroking the side of his neck.

'That's what I intend to find out.' Harry said at last, his facial expression betraying a sense of single minded focus, 'Colin, I want you to follow that ship.'

The youngster's eyes almost bulged out of his head at the suggestion.

'You have got to be JOKING!!!' he shouted in disbelief, 'I'm not going to follow the ruler of Earth just so you can satisfy some curious hunch! Can you even BEGIN to imagine what he'd do with us if he discovered we were trailing him?!'

Harry's eyes narrowed, his expression shifting darkly.

'I can imagine a fate far worse young man, believe me… Now, follow the Viridian's vessel.'

Colin went frantic, shaking his head from side to side.

'No… no, no, no, no, NO!!! I won't do it! He'll have me obliterated into a million pieces! He'll make me pay. Make my children pay. And my children's children. And my children's, children's children! And my…'

'I don't have time for this…' Harry muttered to himself, trying as best he could not to vent out his frustration on the foolish man. He clicked his fingers suddenly, and Colin stopped his mindless fanaticisms and just sat motionless, his eyes going cross-eyed before slowly realigning themselves. His body slackened…

'Now, young Colin…' Harry spoke gratingly, rather upset he had to use Essence in a way so similar to the Imperious curse, 'I don't want to spend any more than is necessary out in this cold void of space. I need answers Colin, and that ship is the best bet I have to obtaining them. I'd say we're far enough now not to worry about our fuel residues being picked up by fast flying. Now follow it as fast as you can.'

Colin sat there confused before his hands moved deftly towards the control sticks, his focus directing to the navigation of the ship.

'Yes…' he said weakly, the Essence having a powerful effect over his mind, 'Yes, you're right. We don't want to waste our time…'

'Good.'

And in an instant the pulse engines in the rear of the ship were brought online, whilst the hull of the vessel shuddered violently as it was abruptly pushed from idle to full speed in the blink of an eye. Harry held tightly to the handholds of his seat as the g-forces pulled him tightly into the back rest, his teeth grinding numbly together as their craft picked up speed, flying swiftly after their quarry whilst becoming enveloped in the shadow of the enormous Celestial gate… All the while, he felt he was taking the first step into something far greater, and that Garcia held answers to many a question he had…

Further ahead, Garcia slowed his ship down before the enormous ring-like form of the Celestial Gate, which blocked out the moon's glowing aura like a solar eclipse. Normally he would stop for a minute just to admire the sheer scale of the technical beast that floated before him, it's many hundreds of levels holding large contingents of his loyal Viridian guard, whilst it served him as a power base as well with which to manipulate the politics of Earth. He could see the thousands of missile batteries installed generously across it's metal hull, along with other, more deadly incarnations of metal and magic which had been ordered built by the Dark Lord himself… His master's plans were beginning to come together it seemed, Garcia only wondered how many days it would be before Voldemort would commit to his master stroke, and finally set the elaborate schemes into motion. Perhaps then, he may begin to understand just what kind of role he'd played in the entire saga. And perhaps then, he may grant him the honor of becoming a Deatheater as grand as it seemed to him, though he regrettably he felt his chances were slim if Lucius had anything to do with it. That sly creep was always blocking his attempts at being noticed by the Dark Lord, always taking the credit for things that he, Garcia, had done in his master's name. That bastard!

As he waited there in his zero gravity cockpit, a loud crackling noise came over the ship's intercom system, which he listened to intently as a holographic image of a familiar lieutenant appeared before his face.

'Imperial starship Paratamizer, your clearance codes have been cleared and we are awaiting your choice of destination. Please advise…'

Garcia smiled maliciously.

'Take me to Neptune system.' He spoke silkily into the speakers, 'There are matters there I wish to attend to in person.'

'As you wish,' the uniformed man replied from the other end, 'Exit trajectory will preside in Neptune's orbit. You may enter at your whim. Celestial Gate out.'

And with that the flickering hologram winked out, shrouding the Paratamizer's cockpit in an eerie darkness, save for the lights present across his control panels. As enormous generators placed about the rim of the gate began to glow intensely with magic, a giant shimmering wall of blue light formed within the halo of the gate, creating a bonded connection with an area of space many light years from his current location. Garcia sat there watching the process unfold, whilst a tingling sensation scraped at the back of his mind, distracting him. Absent mindedly he placed his right hand inside his robe pockets, stroking an ancient hard covered book within their dark confines.

'Patience my old companion,' he spoke reverently, withdrawing the Narcissan book, 'Your time will come yet… very soon, you WILL make me a Deatheater.'

And with that he urged his ship onwards into the halo of light before him, not realizing as his vessel was embroiled in energy, that another ship was following him through from behind…

Harry remembered little from his experience through the Celestial Gate, save for scattered images of light and power surging through his veins, tinkering with the thoughts in his head. But despite whatever illusions he may have had as he left Earth's space, none could compare to when his ship left hyper warp badly, cart wheeling an uncontrolled manner into nameless space, whilst his disorientated co-pilot fought the engines for control.

'I do hope this ship can survive another jump if we're to get back home.' Colin remarked as he vented overheating gases from the engine mechanisms. 'This craft isn't designed to handle such stresses upon it's hull.'

'Never mind that,' Harry said in a distracted tone, looking out the vision slits, 'I think I know where the Viridian was going. Look…'

Colin followed his stare out the windows, before his own eyes widened in amazement, having never witnessed such a scene before. Ahead of them was a giant planet, that glowed ominously with a bluish hue as ravenous winds lashed within it's atmosphere.

'Neptune…!' Colin whispered in awe, totally engulfed in admiration whilst not watching the Viridian's vessel flying towards the planet.

'Quick, follow his ship Colin.' Harry said in expectation, clicking his fingers as though it would make the process any quicker. 'We have much to learn yet I believe.'

Restarting the battered engines, Colin pushed his sticks forward, the ship once again picking up speed after their quarry. He gave Harry several querying looks, as though wondering what was coming over him in going along with Harry's plan. Perhaps he wondered why he wasn't still at home tucked away in a comfortable bed, instead of flying about in the dim gloom of space for some unfathomable reason, remaining stuck in a mode of behaviour almost like he was in a trance of some kind, or under some kind of spell.

In the eerie half light of the sun, which shone far weaker this distance into space, Harry watched as Garcia began flying just above Neptune's vicious atmosphere, his engines glowing like bright magenta orbs against the planet's blue shadow.

"What are you doing old wizard?" Harry half wondered to himself, scanners constantly watching the ship, "Why are you out this far?"

All of a sudden, their ship lurched in aggressive deceleration as Colin pulled back hard on the control sticks. Harry was barely saved by his seat straps as his body was thrown forwards from the kinetic power of slowing down… He shot an angry look to his co-pilot, but stayed his temper when he noticed a holographic radar screen erected before the young man's face, showing hundreds of flickering green dots seemingly representing objects ahead of them.

'What is it?' he asked abruptly, studying the concerned look across Colin's youthful face.

'Up ahead, there's a formation of ships… but… I don't see why they would be this far out into space.'

It didn't seem much of a mystery to him really, and he looked ahead to see metallic shapes glinting from the sun's dull light.

'Well, there are colonies out here. Perhaps they're apart of a local freighter service or something.'

'No, not likely.' Colin interjected, as he fumbled with several dials on his keypad, bringing up numerous diagnostic screens, 'The vessels are carrying vast amounts of curse energy on board, my scans have just confirmed it. They're warships…'

'Warships…?'

Harry held his breath as their ship glided slowly towards the unknown vessels, whilst feeling glad their cloak had somehow remained operational despite the hyper warp. The golden hued ships, which numbered well into their hundreds, laid scattered in a sphere-like formation in the planet's orbit, their engines giving off a strange, red glow that illuminated them in an eerie light. A sudden sense of dread seemed to permeate through his mind at the sight of those ships, though Harry did notice that they looked very different from the Viridian's own impressive fleet. Their designs were archaic instead of smooth and modern, yet they also held an incredibly advanced streak about them as they floated there idly, apparently devoid of life even as Colin made his way through.

'They're Telsacom vessels…' Colin said after a moment, checking his ships silhouette databanks.

'Telsacom? I don't understand.' Harry replied, turning to him, 'I thought space companies couldn't produce military fleets. The law forbids it, does it not?'

'Yes, it does.' Colin said once more, looking out the windows at the old ships, 'But it was because of Telsacom that the laws were made… You see, when we first began using space for business purposes, the demand was great and the competition fierce. A lot of different freighter corporations popped up everywhere, just like weeds, and all competed for the same space with which to buy and sell their goods. Rivalry became so intense after a short time, that freighter companies started using armed ships, not only to protect themselves, but also to destroy competitors vessels. It was only when Telsacom produced a fleet of warships specifically for this task, that the Viridian king acted and changed the law to prevent such fleets being produced. He commanded that all businesses were to strip their ships of weapons, and any built solely for combat were to be scuttled immediately.'

'I see…' Harry said shortly, his eyes glued to the enormous Telsacom ships that cast shadows over their own. 'But that doesn't explain why so many are out here in the middle of nowhere.'

Colin scratched his chin in thought, apparently in agreement.

'No it doesn't… Though I heard that during the Viridian's insurrection against them, Telsacom was quick to strip it's fleet of all military vessels… Too quick so they say. Perhaps the fleet wasn't destroyed at all. We may very well be looking at it now…'

The Telsacom fleet floated there idly, not apparently doing anything as their own comparatively tiny vessel glided by. But the sheer size of the ships made Colin's story all that more believable, and Harry knew straight away that for Garcia to have ignored such a threat, would have been to place the world in great danger… Yet the reason for Telsacom hiding it's fleet this far out into space still eluded him. Neptune's system was uninhabitable save for a number of scattered orbital platforms. The very nature of the blue planet itself was one of violent storms that no ship could pass through intact, so one would wonder exactly what value this desolate part of space would have for either Garcia, or for Telsacom. Whatever it was, Harry had a feeling inside that perhaps both Garcia and Telsacom held similar agendas, maybe even a common objective. But as for what that would be, he hadn't a clue.

'Hey, what's that?' he said suddenly, as he observed a cluster of ships surrounding a large metal object. Colin followed his gaze before he started nodding his head, some scrap of knowledge beating about in his mind.

'Irrigan platform.' he replied, furrowing his brow curiously, 'Used to be part of a shipyard for the building of vessels during the trade conflicts. Was a lot bigger years back, I reckon Neptune's gravity must have pulled the rest of it apart. No one lives there anymore, it's nothing but a piece of wreckage that's been floating here for two decades.'

'You are full of knowledge aren't you?' Harry said to the young man, leaning towards him 'Care to tell me why that thing's so important?'

Colin scratched his head in confusion.

'Important…? Why do you say that?'

'Because…' Harry spoke in a knowing voice, 'The Viridian is heading straight for it.'

Colin pushed his way towards the window for a better look, only to see the lithe, black vessel decelerate beneath a large docking clamp, which extended with mechanical difficulty to grasp upon it's hull. Harry engaged the secondary controls of the ship to steer them closer, receiving a frightened look from his younger companion.

'What are you doing?! Those ships might detect us!' he said frantically to him, trying to wrestle the controls away from Harry's iron grip.

'Not likely.' Harry replied in earnest, before he clicked his fingers for good measure. Colin's eyes went sideways for a moment before twisting back into focus.

'Yes… of course you're right, they couldn't possibly know we're here.'

Harry smiled knowing that he could so easily manipulate a person's mind, and set his sights on Irrigan platform, which floated menacingly amidst a collective of archaic warships. He mused over the metal shipyard for a moment as it filled his many different scanners and viewing machines, still wondering what Garcia could possibly be up to in this abandoned place… If what Colin had said was true, then there wouldn't be a sole person aboard the platform, and it may even be without breathable oxygen. But that was something he was willing to risk in this case. He planned to go onboard.

Guiding their small ship towards a dubious docking clamp, Harry engaged deceleration thrusters which pulled their speed down quickly in preparation. Hoping not to be noticed by anyone, he made sure the cloak was still raised when he located another docking clamp over the opposite side of the platform, far from Garcia's black ship. He was half balancing on the prospect that passageways within the old place would lead him to the monarch, yet he still had his fingers crossed about that one… With his fingers tense upon the control columns, he gently eased the ship near the clamp, and signaled the platform's outdated computers to grapple the hull. Two corroding metal arms folded out from the station's exterior, before they extended forth and locked upon Harry's vessel with an iron grip, making their ship shudder for a moment as they took a permanent hold. With any luck, these clamps would also release as well. There was no telling just how corroded they were.

Colin sat there without really saying anything, apparently in some kind of trance since Harry used Essence on him to cloud his mind. Harry became slightly worried that he'd perhaps been too forceful with it's use on someone so young, but it kept him quiet at least, so there wasn't anything to feel guilty about. Harry pointed a menacing finger at him as he undid his seat restraints and began floating towards the airlock door.

'Stay here,' he said in an authoritive tone, receiving a blank look from Colin, 'I'm going to check this place out on my own, but if I have to get out in a hurry, I want you here with the engines primed to go. Do we have an understanding?'

Colin nodded hazily, making Harry want to grimace a little. But deciding to leave his admonishments there in the ship, he turned about and floated out the airlock door, just as artificial gravity from the other side began to slowly pull him to his feet whilst the hatch behind closed with a harsh echo… He looked forwards to the second door of the airlock, which would lead into the station, and took a long, deep breath.

"Here goes nothing…" he thought pessimistically, and with one final moment of reflection, he pulled down upon an old rusting lever to his right, which activated numerous mechanisms to open the door…

Holding his breath in trepidation, Harry shielded his eyes as a blast of ice cold air struck him in the face, putting his feet off balance as the artificial gravity took a hold upon him, pulling his form to the floor. The rush of air howled at him like a Banshee, as years of internal pressure released itself into the airlock, before a few moments passed by and the wind became little more than still air once more, as though it had never been disturbed… Harry cautiously lowered his guard to peer into the corridor beyond, which was shrouded in an ethereal darkness that seemed to extend forever, his own rasping breath resounding in haunted echoes down the long abandoned hallway.

Summoning a ball of Essence over his palm, Harry slowly walked into the dark abyss of the platform, shining ambient rays light over walls and floors to take in the lingering remnants of a time decades ago, whilst his gentle footsteps sounded like harsh grating along the steel wired catwalks. It occurred to him only vaguely that this platform had been built just after space was first colonized, when muggles were still coming to terms with wizard existence. And yet it still struck a chord with him, as though this long forgotten piece of architecture was a part of him somehow, like an innate feeling, or a missing piece of a whispered past. Whatever it was, the feeling was strong here, as was the desire he felt to use Essence, which had peaked unusually the moment he stepped onboard. And that felt dangerous to him, as he more than anyone remembered that invisible line of power he could not cross within his mind, for to do so, would be to lead to disaster.

Walking slowly along the metal walkways, he shined his conjured light about himself, bringing to witness sights not seen for near twenty years. Ice covered the walls in cold crystalline sheaths to turn his breath a misty fog, whilst a myriad of insulating pipes and ducts stretched across them in spidery formations, starting from nowhere and seemingly ending within the old metal of the walls themselves, disappearing from view. It was truly a work of technical disarray, yet symbolized the hesitant blending of machine and magic during the early years, when neither side truly trusted one another, and the world itself remained to be set into order. But this place held a darker side to itself as well, more like an evil composed of the cold, cruel purity of metal, rather than the noble feats that pushed for the platform's construction in the first place. It was enough to make him want to shudder, his eyes darting from side to side wary of the slightest movement.

For each step he took, the pitch blackness of his dark surroundings seemed wanting to encroach upon him, biting ruthlessly at the corners of his vision. The Essence spawned light hovering over his right palm flickered every so often in this darkness, as though some ethereal wind blew within the claustrophobic spaces of the platform's eerie corridors, threatening to blow it out entirely. Harry felt relieved in a way, that such a thing couldn't happen, even despite his improved vision in the dark, as he knew it would be a grave misfortune should he be unable to depend on Essence, for he had left his wand back on the ship by mistake. He was too far away to turn back for it now, and Garcia may have done his deeds and left by the time he returned to continue his pursuit. He had no choice but to go on.

It seemed there was no end to the hundreds of different passageways and shafts, that deviated in their direction wherever he looked. And more than once did it occur to him as he tried to keep his bearings, that he may have taken a wrong turn at some stage in his hazardous trek, being disillusioned by the darkness and overlooking crucial signs written in English… More than an hour had passed he was sure, by the time he entered a windowed passageway beyond a maze of identical corridors, where Neptune's aura shone with radiance beyond the glass, bathing the walls in a eerie blue glow. He took scant moments to stare at the planet's alien beauty, marveling at it's size and apparent inhospitable nature, before realigning his senses to his location in the platform.

By his estimates, he was close to the docking bay Garcia had secured his ship to, and knew the challenge would be even greater now, as he had to walk undetected in the darkness. It was his only way to find what the monarch was really up to out here. Walking onwards, Harry kept silent, subtly using Essence to guide his actions as he went, searching for Garcia's elusive trail. It was hard to keep the haunting nature of the place from interfering with his judgment, but nevertheless he kept his eyes firmly ahead as he left the dimly lit room down another pitch black corridor, not knowing what he might find. The prospect of finally finishing his own years of toil was alluring, and it felt to him that Garcia was the key to it all.

Suddenly he heard a noise up ahead, and silently he crouched low against a wall, using the darkness to camouflage himself in his black robes. It would have been less than a patter to the ears of a normal person, but Harry could distinctly hear soft footsteps that could only have belonged to people, and he inched himself cautiously towards the corner to risk a guarded glance… There in the center of the next room stood his quarry; Garcia, all decked out in his imperial red attire, he stood with his back to Harry, looking over something in front of him. Two of his most elite Viridian guard flanked him on either side, their enormous forms tuned to their environment as they held loaded stun rifles with armored hands. Occasionally they searched the dark confines of the room with their neural implants, whilst devices attached to their grimly armored helmets twisted and turned seemingly of their own volition to guard themselves, and more importantly, their master, from attack.

Harry pulled his head back and leant against the metal wall, breathing calmly so as not to draw attention. What was Garcia doing here, he wondered, before sneaking another look about the corner. The monarch stood silently, engrossed with something upon a pedestal, even as Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye. Trying to push questions from his mind, he watched in interest as Garcia stood mumbling to himself for one such reason or another, before there was a sudden burst of blinding light, and both he and his two guards disappeared, leaving Harry dumbstruck with his mouth gaping.

'What the…?' he said in disbelief to himself, rubbing his eyes. 'Where did he…?'

Looking about to make sure he wasn't being tailed, Harry sneaked over towards the pedestal where Garcia had been standing mere moments ago, shining his Essence light throughout the darkened room. There was little about that could give any indication as to where he had gone. Piles of rubbish, abandoned computer terminals, and odd assortments of clothing laid scattered about the room as though it's previous inhabitants had packed up and left in an incredible hurry. But nothing else could tell him of Garcia's movements, save for the lone pedestal itself, that stood on it's own at the far end of the room, whilst alien rays of blue light illuminated that single spot. On it was a parchment, that seemed bare but for a few spots of ink that were somehow vanishing into it, being absorbed at an incredible rate. Harry stared curiously at it, trying to read the last characters to be written upon it's surface, but was hampered as they too began to disappear with the ink, until nothing but blank parchment remained there to mock him.

Hurriedly he worked strands of invisible Essence magic into the parchment, hoping to derive whatever small amount of ink could be salvaged, of which could not be seen by the naked eye. Small specks began to be pulled to the surface, revealing themselves as he continued to pour minute particles of Essence into the blank sheet, somehow fighting another form of magic that was sucking the parchment dry… More and more magic did he pour into it, and more and more did the strange enchantments on the parchment seem to suck it in, before at last he managed to scavenge some semblance from the page, and he committed the symbols to memory just as he let go and they began to disappear… The symbols looked archaic, and old. And yet, somewhere within his mind he seemed to recognize their somewhat alien appearance of harsh lines and jagged edges, as though they had been committed to memory long ago. But he remembered them nonetheless… they were Narcissan symbols.

What use Garcia would have for such a language was lost to him, but it drove home a deep sense of dread when he realised that only a few examples of such script remained in the world, and all of those examples, were in the revered Narcissan books themselves! If Garcia had gotten a hold of one of those ancient volumes, then… let's just say he didn't feel entirely trustworthy of the old king. He was already power hungry as it was, so ancient knowledge the likes of which one of those books could provide would undoubtedly go to his head. It made Harry want to find him all that much quicker and end this entire fiasco, so he frantically began looking over the parchment for a way to "disappear", as Garcia had done mere moments ago.

Looking at the white sheet, he mumbled numerous incantations and spells trying to decipher what the parchment did exactly. But without achieving success, he tried holding it up to the dim light in case anything filtered through. However, there was nothing, as with his original approach. He was beginning to feel frustrated, and slammed it down onto the pedestal in annoyance.

'Why won't you work?!' he shouted at it in anger, whilst breathing heavily, as if the act would provoke it to do something. The parchment just laid there inanimately, mocking in it's idleness. Harry scratched his head in confusion, before an idea struck him suddenly, and he twisted black strands of Essence about his fingers like ink. Touching the parchment with his index finger, he drew the Narcissan symbols onto it, recreating it exactly as he'd seen it when Garcia had left… A language of jagged edges, with cuttingly sharp tips upon their characters, came to light as he painted them onto the white parchment, vaguely hinting of the mysterious, yet deadly civilization to whom the writing once belonged.

It was then that it happened, slow at first, but then faster… and faster still. A blinding yellow light enveloped the Narcissan symbols, shining in an unnatural brilliance as a glowing aura of magic stretched it like webs across the page, growing larger and larger as they spidered their way from one side of the parchment to the other… Harry shielded his eyes as he watched the spectacle unfold, the seemingly lifelike magic moving with a mind of it's own… Then it lunged, glowing tendrils of energy gripping him from head to toe in an iron bind as his eyes widened in horror, his vision becoming blurred and distorted by the energy as he let out frantic gasps for air, whilst his hands waved about uselessly as the magic constricted around his body.

'ARGH!' he spluttered in vain, the energy coiling around his throat like a vice. He moved awkwardly in an attempt to break free. But he was hindered by the stubborn magic that refused to let him go, before at last, all thought left him and his melded with the unknown magic, taking him far away to the brink of his own conscious mind…

What felt like an age had passed by before Harry opened his eyes tentatively, squinting in pain as he realized he was laying on his side, with his face flat against the floor. Trying to overcome his grogginess, he used his left hand to hazily push himself up, before propping himself exhaustedly against a hard wall. His breath was a wheeze as he fought to catch it, whilst his eyes slowly began to adjust to the light. And then his memory returned…

"Light? What light?!" he thought suddenly, and his vision immediately became clearer as he twisted himself about to peer at his strangely familiar surroundings… He hadn't left the room he was in before he lost consciousness, as he noticed the burnished pedestal off to his immediate right, with the parchment still sitting there as if untouched. But the room was different, it couldn't possibly be the same place. Instead of cold darkness enveloping the room, a blood red light bathed the walls in a hellish ambience, inspiring a hate filled mood inside him as he looked at it. One could possibly believe, that there was an alternate source of light somewhere within the station, that for some strange reason, radiated from seemingly every place possible. Flaming torches that floated in their hundreds above him, burned with a quiet crackling noise as he painfully got to his feet, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

There were flashes in his mind, dark images of the abandoned Irrigan platform before he was suddenly taken by the magical energies radiating from the parchment. The sensation of it was a binding, almost constrictive force, yet it felt all too similar to Port Key travel, in the way it picked him up and transported him. But as he slowly turned his head about, his eyes taking in the station walls around him, he began to question whether he'd gone anywhere at all. Apart from the multitudes of floating candles and the sinister red light reflecting off the metal walls, everything about the scene was exactly as he'd remembered it, save for the strange feeling he was experiencing in his gut. There WAS something different about this place.

It was then his eyes landed on a sight he had only dreamed of, and he rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Two dusty books laid on separate pedestals, encased in glass and surrounded by eerie light. The Narcissan books! Voldemort's he was certain! Why they were here on an abandoned station he didn't think to ask within his mind, and without realizing it, he darted forward and smashed the cases, pocketing the two volumes within the deep caverns of his robes… A feeling of relief passed through him even as he came to his senses, his head twisting about to scan the room. At the far end there was a round doorway…

Taking hesitant steps towards the entrance of the spherical room, Harry peered around the corner of the doorway to the long corridors that stretched a sort of "T-intersection" in both directions. Looking left and right, he pondered whether or not he should explore the station further in it's somewhat altered state. Though inside he felt strange in this place, he made up his mind to take a look around, seeing as he might not be here again…

But just as he took his first step into the long corridor, a sudden chill came over him, freezing his breath to ice. The walls about him became slick with rampart frost as an all too familiar feeling came over him, and he jumped backwards quickly, hiding himself in a darkened corner… Two Dementors floated sinuously in the red lighted corridor, slowly gliding past the doorway without any visible effort. Harry kept himself as quiet as he could as he watched them, loathing the Dementor's rattle-like breath as his mother's screams permeated into his mind, threatening to overcome him. Yet he resisted their mind numbing power, even as one of the two halted suddenly, turning it's eyeless face about to sniff the air suspiciously, as though it knew it was being watched from somewhere. It's companion also turned to it as if sensing much the same, before they both seemingly dismissed their suspicion and returned to their eerie glide down the metal corridor.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as tension leaked out of his muscles. That had been a close call. And yet despite this, a knot seemed to form in his chest at the prospect of Dementors being here. HERE! Of all places! Why, he wondered, would Dementors be so far from Earth? Why on this abandoned station? Harry remained still hoping no others were gliding down the hall, before at last, he picked himself up and ran quickly through the corridor in the opposite direction. He felt scared and confused that he would find Dementors so far out into space, yet it seemed a catalyst for something more mysterious, and he briefly pondered what connection Garcia had to this. He felt almost sure the old man did, knowing how connected he was. That bastard!

Running through blood red corridors and moving stealthily about corners, Harry kept his eyes open and his ears pricked for the slightest sound, not forgetting the terrible feeling in his gut that he felt was getting stronger … Thousands of gothic style candles made their fiery presence known as the corridors began to lose the radiance of their light, slowly succumbing to eerie shadows and bad vibes as they twisted and contorted, becoming technical works of anarchy as overhead pipes enclosed around him. He was seriously beginning to wish he wasn't here, feeling some form of envy for Colin who was back on the ship living out an unusual daydream, as the Essence charm slowly began to lose it's effect. But he reluctantly reminded himself why it was that he was here in the first place, and rekindled his duty to find the truth about what Garcia was doing, and whether it had any connection to suspicious events on Earth.

It was just when he thought he couldn't take anymore that he noticed a shadow move up ahead, and recognized it's profile as being Garcia's lean form as he walked slowly to the door of a large room, being flanked by his two Viridian Guard. Sticking himself tightly against the wall, he bore the pain of a pressure gauge poking into his back as he silently watched Garcia residing at the mouth of the room, kneeling in an odd manner.

'I have come in your presence my lord, as you have commanded of me…' he suddenly spoke in a respective tone, taking Harry off guard. A biting sensation began to ripple through his scar …

'Very good… Come before me my servant.' Replied a hissing voice, and Harry suddenly realised what Garcia was all about as horrible memories of that voice began to emerge in his mind. The Viridian was a Deatheater! That had to be it.

Garcia slowly returned to his feet and walked in, his two guards following him in silent pursuit. Harry inched his way slowly along the wall so as not to make a noise, stealthily moving before at last he found himself peaking slightly around the corner of the door, taking in the room. Large glass windows formed the entire far wall, which showed the enormous form of… it couldn't possibly have been… Neptune? Where once there resided a blue planet of violent winds, there was now an enormous red giant of turbulent magma that seethed and boiled in poisonous gases, filling the room with a ghostly aura of red light.

And it was there on a central dais, where there sat a cloaked figure who's face was shrouded by the dark of a voluminous black hood. A veritable aura of evil seemed to surround this being, who resided on an ornate chair of carved gold and silver, whilst clawed hands stretching from beneath the robes, tapped impatiently on the arm rests. Harry knew immediately who it was… It was Voldemort.

Garcia walked towards the Dark Lord before once more dropping to his knees, not taking heed of a golden haired man standing by his master, whom Harry recognized as Lucius Malfoy. A burst of hatred permeated through him, and he had to force down the urge to strike at him.

'So then…' Lucius spoke in an arrogant manner, looking down upon Garcia from his vantage point. 'You received our message. How nice of you to join us… Though you are late, are you not? We haven't the time to deal with those who aren't prompt to obey!'

Voldemort raised a solitary finger, as a haunting hiss reverberated from beneath his hood. Lucius stayed himself, returning to his silent vigil with some reluctance. Garcia spoke.

'I came the moment I received your message my Lord! Please accept my apologies for any inconvenience I may have caused.'

The Dark Lord sat motionless, occasionally flitting a stare out the giant glass windows to the fiery planet beyond, before he finally spoke in his cold, hissing voice.

'Port keys to Limbo can relay minor lapses in time. Your delay is somewhat expected, I fear Lucius dramatizes too much… However, I cannot tolerate lateness, there is much to discuss… I fear, you are becoming irritated as to your role in my plans. Correct?'

Garcia sat there looking surprised at the question, even as his own two guards looked to him and then back to the Dark Lord with mixed emotions.

'My lord?!' he spluttered back hesitantly. Voldemort continued to tap his fingers in a mechanical fashion. Tap… tap… tap…

'There is no point in hiding your feelings from me old man, for I can sense within you that which you hold as sacred. Your very emotions are but playthings to my mind, I can sense your frustration. To what part of our arrangement are you perhaps unhappy with?'

Garcia sat there mutely, his mouth working in contemplation as though trying to formulate an answer.

'Reply quickly to your god, Garcia!' Lucius spoke abruptly, making the white haired man jitter in nervousness.

'I… I…' he began hesitantly, searching for the right words. 'I don't know how much longer my services will be required. My position on Earth is unsafe, tentative at best! There are elements in the World Senate just waiting for their chance to shut me down, as well as whatever activities I am undertaking for you. How much longer will I have to continue this charade? I fear for my safety!'

Voldemort must have been staring at him somehow, for Garcia began to quiver after the last words he spoke, not being sure whether sharing his concern was exactly the right thing to do. Harry watched silently from the darkness of the doorway, keeping himself hidden from view.

'You fear for your safety?!' hissed Voldemort, raising his hood a little to reveal rows of blade like teeth, 'Why fear for your safety Garcia? I have armies prepared for war all over Earth, waiting for signals to start their attack. The order of the phoenix is but a useless covenant trying vainly to find me. Their leader, Albus Dumbledore, is on the brink of death from old age. And lastly, Potter, the thorn in your boot that is one of the world's last Prodigen mages, appears to have left my sight completely! Now… along with your own cover-ups and law breaking, what's not safe?! You overstate the situation, and you know that well. Choose your words more carefully my servant, I know that fear is not your dissatisfaction.'

Garcia stared back shocked, a large bead of sweat rolling ominously down his forehead. He didn't look as though he trusted his own craftiness anymore, Voldemort held him captive with words alone…

'Tell me everything I have done for you has not been in vain. I have tried hard to imagine what possible reason you could have for seeing civilian space vessels destroyed. I have tried hard to understand why it is you have kept me in the dark for so long, and why I cannot be elevated to a more prominent role by your side. And I have tried so very much to discover why it is I risk everything for you without knowing to what purpose my efforts are for…'

Voldemort sat idly as Garcia finished. Beyond the shrouding darkness of his black hood, his blade like teeth grinded together with a menacing sound, making blobs of sticky saliva drip terrifyingly from his mouth. At once he stood up from his throne, making Lucius drop to his knees in respect, before the Dark Lord turned his seemingly eyeless stare upon Garcia.

'Impatience I sense in you old man…' he said in irritation, his voice a subtle hiss as he turned himself about and walked towards the windows, Garcia's stare following him. 'I pulled you towards my cause as you were the one person with resources enough to see my plans through to fruition. And as such, I believed you were capable of discretion so as to benefit me. It appears I may have mistaken my trust however, but since you are so persistent, come and see what your efforts have been worth. Stand by my side underling!' 

Garcia promptly obeyed, walking up from behind the black cloaked lord whilst wearing a wheedling expression.

'Lucius, if you will…'

Nodding, Lucius pulled a small device from his robes, which he pushed a button on.

'Now Garcia,' Voldemort spoke in a snake-like tone, gesturing out the large glass windows with a clawed hand, 'Behold what your efforts have provided me with…'

And Harry watched in horror as from seemingly empty space, there was a flash of light, and an enormous ship, larger by far than anything he'd previously seen, emerged from cloak to dwarf the station a hundred fold. Garcia's mouth dropped open in shock, and he absent mindedly took a fearful step back as he took in the leviathan vessel, which looked a terrifying blend of magical technologies stolen from every corner of the globe.

'By the gods!' he spoke in disbelief, receiving a sly grin from Lucius behind him, 'That isn't… I mean, this can't be…'

'Oh yes my old companion, I'm afraid it is…' Voldemort replied, turning his head just enough for Harry to see a yellow eye glowing brightly within his black hood. 'This Garcia, is the first ever construction of a Khorah class battleship, ironically it's the only class of vessel you deemed illegal to build. And now, we can see perfection take physical form.'

'This is what you needed all those parts for isn't it?!' Garcia said in dawning comprehension, 'This is why so many had to die so that only selected ships could pass through the gate! By all that's sane in this universe, how could you build this monstrosity my lord?! I outlawed any manifestation of this ship class for good reason, the very existence of one could…'

'Alter the balance of power in the galaxy?' Voldemort prompted, receiving a terrified glance from Garcia, 'Yes, I know. Twenty years have I seethed over my defeat in the department of mysteries Garcia. Twenty years that I have brooded in hatred over the stifling of my plans by the will of one ungifted teenager! And yet, in that time I have learnt much of myself and thus refined my plans to suit these changed times of ours, so that I would one day set foot in the department of mysteries again and learn of the hidden powers within that threaten to consume even the ancient magic of Essence itself.'

'And you think building this… THING, will help you achieve that?!'

Voldemort moved so suddenly that Garcia barely had time to react, and could only struggle in desperation as a scaly, clawed hand gripped him by the throat and lifted him into the air. Pulling him close, Voldemort spoke to him in a cold whisper.

'Your inability to conceive my visions have been most TAXING to me Garcia, soon enough you will pay for that fault with your life!' and he threw the old man to the floor with a crash, making Harry shiver inside as the floor beneath his feet vibrated nauseously. For a moment Garcia didn't move, before slowly he drew himself up from the floor, coughing up splatters of blood as he turned his frightened gaze out the windows again. The giant warship floated there menacingly, it's many gun emplacements only partly indicative of it's true power.

'Yes Garcia… FEEL it's power! You helped create this. Seven kilometers long, and built of magic infused alloys, it holds a broadside weapons complement of over four thousand Curse launchers, as well as sporting two linked Blight-slinger cannons with a minimum range of two hundred thousand kilometers. It is indeed a weapon to be reckoned with, would you not agree?'

The look spread upon Garcia's face was anything but agreement, but even as he staggered back to his feet, Voldemort watched the battleship float sinuously before him, casting a veritable shadow over the installation.

'How will you do it?' Garcia asked in a more respective tone, quite apparently biting back his fear, 'How could this contraption possibly gain you access to the Department of Mysteries?'

Folding his hands behind his back, Voldemort drew in a rattle-like breath as he looked out the window into the vastness of space.

'London is well protected by energy shields, as you know I'm sure.'

Garcia nodded as Voldemort continued on, refusing to face him.

'However… these archaic shields, which in themselves are merely relic precautions from the last war, are quite easily deactivated should the world senate abdicate itself.' Garcia looked surprised.

'Abdicate itself?' he queried of a sudden, stepping forward, 'You expect every senator to leave London in fear? My lord, though I had anticipated spies of yours infiltrating the senate, I cannot foresee how you could achieve such a feat. It's impossible!'

Voldemort chuckled in amusement, sending a shiver down Harry's spine.

'No… it is not impossible. Merely "improbable" to a mind the likes of yours… My intervention into the affairs of the world senate runs far deeper than you know. ALL the senators save one are agents of mine, or those I hand picked personally for their position. Only the senator of the League of Free People's was a honest politician, yet seeing as you assassinated that troublesome stone in my shoe, it leaves the rest of the senate to be rather… pliable. Cowards they are, ALL OF THEM! The mere mention of an army of dark creatures will be more than sufficient to scare them into leaving the city, and thus lower it's shield protection effective immediately. And then, my mechanical work of art will be put to good use…'

Garcia went pale at the prospect of the battleship being used on people, though somewhere within his mind he felt it was necessary. Nevertheless however, he couldn't foresee anything in this arrangement that could possibly be of benefit to himself. It was almost as if he were brought along merely for the ride.

'My lord?' he asked in confusion, his mouth working, 'I must ask of you, is there anything to this scheme to which I would play a more active role?'

'You mean to become a Deatheater?' Voldemort added in a knowing voice, making him gasp in disbelief. Turning, he bent towards the old man and held his face with razor sharp claws, drawing slivers of blood than ran down his wrinkled face. Garcia groaned in pain as he watched two glowing eyes staring pitifully down at him, whilst struggling to remove the Dark Lord's iron grip.

'IT… IT IS ONLY MY WILL… MY WILL TO SERVE YOU… OH POWERFUL LORD!!!' he shouted back to his emotionless captor, whose teeth filled jaws stretched in a cold smile. At once Voldemort threw him to one side and walked back to his golden throne, before he sat down leisurely with Lucius beside him at bended knee.

'Is that so?' he asked Garcia simply, who stared back past his own blood stained face. 'Then tell me old ruler… what would you have to say about this?!'

And at once a tugging sensation pulled within Garcia's robes, and the ancient Narcissan book suddenly flew out into Voldemort's outstretched hands. The glow beneath his shrouding hood intensified as his eyes widened in sadistic pleasure, whilst a tremor of increased pain stung through Harry's scar. Voldemort laughed as Garcia's own eyes widened in terror, seeing that his only salvation was immediately lost.

'Planning to bargain your way into becoming a Deatheater were you…?!' he half asked, tapping his claws on his chair's handles once more. Tap… tap… tap…

Garcia spluttered in a vain attempt to correct his own error, but found his mouth held shut by some invisible force as the Dark Lord enjoyed the moment. Sticky trickles of saliva dripped hungrily from Voldemort's mouth.

'You needn't provide some fabricated excuse… GARCIA! Ha… I can feel the fear pulsing through your veins as we speak, and the betraying sedition you plan in your mind! You can hide nothing from me, as I have just demonstrated… but just so as you know Garcia, I had originally planned something for you. I had wished you to become the General of my armies, should your faithful and blind servitude to me continue. However, judging by this…' and he held the Narcissan book in full view, 'I'd say not. Your services are well appreciated I assure you, but your loyalty is something that will not suffice, and that brings consequences…'

Drawing himself back, Voldemort pulled in a deep breath as he shouted aloud in a language Harry felt deep recognition of… and felt fear.

'Shovarrna horakhtashaar! Virotakuu janeevade… Smisharak… Darenkhare… come to me my loyal servants!'

For a moment there was a deep lull of silence, before ghostly shrieks sounded, and whispy black shapes emerged from the floor at Voldemort's sides, shedding unnaturally dark shadows across the room as they took form. Garcia looked to them in terror, and swiftly began crawling backwards away from the monstrosities. It was then he hit something sharp, and turned his head up slightly to see Lucius poking his serpent headed wand into the base of his neck, a drawling smile spread across his evil face.

'Behold Garcia… "Viridian King"!' Voldemort said aloud, his hands raised to accommodate his shadowy companions, 'These are your replacements as of now, my own personal blend of Essence and Dementor DNA. They are the perfect servants, loyal and unquestioning, and most of all, more deadly than any creature who treads foot in MY armies!'

Harry drew himself back into the shadows, knowing the inevitability of what was about to happen. There was nothing he could do against such impossible odds, and he quickly ran back down the hallway towards the parchment, which he was sure was a port-key. Perhaps once he was back in the material universe, he might try to use Garcia's ship to get home. Afterall, the Viridian would no longer be needing it.

Meanwhile, Garcia gritted his teeth as the hybrid Dementors approached him, floating through the air like accustomed killers, and already he could feel his own blood beginning to curdle and freeze within his veins.

'Yes old man,' Lucius whispered into Garcia's ear, as the horrible apparitions closed in on their prey, 'This is the end. No loss really, our master was never going to make such a gullible worm as yourself into a Deatheater anyway. That's the way things work I'm afraid… so now you must die. I've no doubt these… "things" will want to bleed your corpse dry of every last drop of blood. Best not keep them waiting…'

Lucius pulled back his wand behind his head to yell the killing curse, his mouth beginning the incantation.

'AVADA KE…' But just as suddenly Garcia rose from his crouched position with his right arm spinning about in a wide arc, as a long, cruel blade swiftly extended from beneath his robes, which he plunged viciously into Lucius's exposed throat.

Lucius's eyes rolled into his head as he staggered and fell to the floor clutching his ruined neck, blood spurting in different directions as his assassin turned swiftly once more with his wand appearing unexpectedly from his other sleeve, letting off a Reductive curse at the nearest hybrid Dementor. The black creature spin itself inside out like a whispy sheet of silk as the curse hit it, absorbing the energy whilst letting out a deafening shriek that pierced Garcia's ear drums like a needle.

'KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!!!' Voldemort howled to his underlings as he rose from his chair, teeth bared in a horrific display of hatred and fury as he raised his own hand in preparation to do the deed himself. Garcia ran backwards over Lucius's dead body, pulling from around his own neck the symbol of his regal authority; a necklace holding the golden sword wrapped in thorns…

'THIS DOESN'T END HERE DARK ONE!' he shouted back to Voldemort, whose eyes burned with fire, 'I'LL LIVE ON WHEN YOU ARE BUT A DISTANT MEMORY!' and at once he closed his fingers around the necklace, before a sudden nimbus of white light consumed him, a hidden port-key transporting him onto his starship in the material universe.

It was only when he released his hold upon Irrigan platform and flew away, did Voldemort's screams of rage fill it within, pulsing pain through Harry's scar in a way he could never have previously imagined… 


	15. Enemy from Within

Chapter 15 – Enemy from Within

Amidst the static hum of his starship, Garcia could've sworn he felt Voldemort's burning hatred from across the lonely depths of space, following him… When his computers locked onto the distant Celestial Gate, he couldn't shake the feeling, even as his starship plunged into the mysterious voids of hyper-warp, to traverse the galaxy in a leviathan leap to Earth. Perhaps on his home-world he could once more regain some sense of control over his desperate situation, as any sane person would realize his falling out with the Dark Lord placed him in serious jeopardy.

Lurching forward, the sudden increase in speed pulled Garcia back into his seat, despite the zero gravity environment around him. After a while the acceleration evened out and Paratamizer began to flow with the warp space around it, planets and constellations passing by within a few minutes that would've taken an ordinary ship years to travel. Garcia gritted his teeth together in annoyance at having lost a great amount of power with the Dark Lord. Power of which, he had spent years of his life trying to accumulate. He had been there for much of Voldemort's original reign of terror, and had even been witness to his rebirth twenty years ago after Grindelwald's improbable, yet brief return. How much effort he'd put into Voldemort's schemes he was unsure, but it was an experience he was unwilling to rekindle right now. Too many years had been wasted trying to run for scraps left by the Dark Lord. He had wanted power, and Voldemort had refused him even a small portion of that luxury, by denying the privilege of becoming a Deatheater.

That however, was a part of his life that was over now, as Voldemort no longer appeared to trust him. Garcia briefly wondered whether or not the Dark Lord had ever trusted him, as he'd heard whispers that the man was apt at reading the thoughts of others, no matter how obscure or hidden away they were… In truth, Garcia had wanted more than his fair share of power to begin with, by altering many of Voldemort's schemes in such ways as to make him more reliant on the Viridian King for resources. Only now did that strategy prove to be folly, as the Narcissan book he had previously possessed, a simple, yet powerful bargaining chip, now resided in Voldemort's scaled hands, to the detriment of himself. Garcia cursed his own lack of resolve for not absorbing the mysterious powers of the book when he'd had the chance, and groaned when he thought of just how powerful Voldemort would now be. Echoes of that increased power would be spreading as of this moment he was sure, and he felt that perhaps this would be the exact time all these years of plans and preparations would be put into effect. Yes, there was much left to be done on his own part, if any semblance of power was to be achieved. Carnage would be following soon enough, and it was up to him to make sure he avoided the brunt of it. For his own sake at least, Voldemort was not exactly the forgiving type.

Watching as purple shades of warp energy passed the outer hull of the ship, Garcia lifted himself effortlessly from his chair before gliding across the weightless environment inside the vessel, checking the status of oxygen cells and thrust meters governing the systems of the ship. Briefly tapping a faulty gauge, he suddenly noticed an odd shadow out of the corner of his eye, and swiftly he turned, only to meet the steely gaze of someone he had not intended to see again.

Just as his expression faltered, a powerful burst of energy grappled at his stomach, throwing him backwards into a metal tube that began to spit hot steam from the wounding impact. Grabbing uselessly for his wand, pain ravaged it's way through Garcia's back, as the zero gravity environment tangled his robes about him bindingly.

'Well… our circumstances have changed haven't they?' spoke a harsh voice from the half light of the ship's rear, as the figure of a man glided forward towards Garcia, cloak rippling slowly from the lack of air. 'I always knew we'd meet again Garcia, but I never pictured we'd be doing it out here, so far from home.'

'Potter…?' Garcia half spluttered as he returned to a more controlled stance, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the ship's interior. 'PRODIGEN!' he immediately corrected himself, a sharp streak of hatred flowing through his pronunciation of the feared word. His wand suddenly appeared at his side, raised towards his attacker in a stubborn display of power, as if to intimidate him.

Harry crossed his arms casually, and Garcia's wand suddenly flew from his hands to hover before Harry's eyes, which narrowed severely.

'You'll not be needing this.' He said bluntly, before he pocketed the wooden tool within his cavernous robes, smoothing down any adverse creases with a splayed hand. Harry seemed unnervingly cool and collected, spawning nervous beads of sweat across Garcia's wrinkled forehead. Was the young Prodigen trying to provoke him somehow, just to give him a reason to strike him dead? Garcia doubted it somewhat, and he floated there silently, his eyes measuring his unwanted guest in a mixture of uncertainty and hatred. A Prodigen, being just what it was, was scum on it's own. But Potter, he was something entirely different all together, and Garcia feared him very much, knowing he no longer had the Telsacom shield in his possession. Harry literally held his life in the palm of his hand…

'Why are you here Prodigen!' Garcia spoke in a demanding voice, receiving a detached stare in return, 'How did you get aboard my ship!'

For a moment Harry didn't answer, as if lost in his own thoughts. Then he looked to him with graying eyes, their color sucked dry by the powerful magic he used.

'Now now Garcia, let us be civilized here for once. I'm still rather sore from our last encounter, if you remember it.'

Garcia did, with disturbing clarity. He wondered whether Potter planned a prolonged session of torture to make him pay for the shock treatment the Viridian guards had placed upon him earlier. If he did, he didn't let any sign of it show on his emotionless face. Harry continued on, his words biting deep.

'You know, I wouldn't have dared to think you were one of Voldemort's naïve pawns. But… given your little display in front of him, I wonder why I never thought of it before.'

'You saw that! But how?'

'Oh there will be plenty of time for explanations later. But for now, I'll be asking the questions if you don't mind. It makes things that much easier, you know how it is… So then, my first question; Why did you threaten my family and I during our last meeting?'

Garcia's mouth dropped open in surprise, expecting a far harsher treatment from the loathsome man. But then he realised, Potter may still be planning just that.

'Your race sets you apart from other people.' He said in a half concocted answer, eyes narrowed in bitterness. 'As ruler of a perfect empire, it's my duty to put such people in their place, and assure allegiances at all costs.'

'My… race! Do you think me another species old man? How insulting!'

Garcia could feel an invisible thread of air slowly begin to constrict around his throat, but decided he was in too far now to even attempt an escape.

'Of course I think of you that way!' he spluttered out between forced breaths, trying vainly to loosen his collar, 'The magic you wield is just not natural! Normal people don't posses such powerful means… Just like the other weaker members of your kind, you deserve nothing less than complete an utter hatred, as does your family… Yes, I was right to feed other Prodigens to the street mobs all those years back. Yet it seems I may have overlooked one in the process, oh how I regret not seeing you torn apart when I had the chance!'

Harry didn't so much as move a muscle, but Garcia felt suddenly limp as he was hurled through the air against the wall, hearing a painful crack as one of his ribs broke from the impact. He brought up one of his gnarled hands to cover his chest, the pain being so intense. Harry's own emotionless visage infuriated Garcia as he slowly descended to the floor of the ship's weightless environment, his eyes locked onto the pools of grey on Harry's face. It was all a game to the Prodigen… just some elaborate torture to satisfy the man's desire for wanton revenge.

'Is that so?' Harry replied in a simple tone, his voice conveying such meaning as to overrule the literal implication of his words, 'I didn't realize you were responsible for wiping out the Prodigens. Was this to get you your crown? If power was involved then it wouldn't surprise me one bit, you're hungry for that sort of thing aren't you!'

Garcia repressed a laugh as he fought with the insurmountable pain within his chest. Harry had described him to the letter.

'The times needed it…' Garcia replied in defiance, staring directly at the man from the floor, 'When news got out that the last war had been started by a Prodigen, people wanted revenge for the damage and loss inflicted on their society. Only a stupid man would have failed to capitalize on that situation, so if murdering a few thousand Prodigens was necessary for me to gain the crown of Earth, then so be it. They were nothing more than collateral damage afterall.'

'As horrifying as your tyranny is, you still haven't answered my original question to my liking. Why did you threaten my family and I? It wasn't just because I was a Prodigen was it? Since you were working with Voldemort, I'm rather curious as to why you let me live in the first place. Please give me a good response Garcia, I would dislike having to reopen old wounds.'

And with a small gesture of his hand, the snapped rib within Garcia's chest moved ever so slightly, sending jolts of crippling pain throughout his ageing body.

'Voldemort's ever growing power means nothing to me so long as I consolidate my own. Do you not understand my feelings in any way Potter? I HATE YOU…! Just like I hated every other Prodigen who could wield magic so easily, with such enormous power. That's why I killed them, and why I threatened your family. There can only be one ruler of our planet Harry… ME! You animals are like a plague to our war torn world. A cancer that must be removed at all costs, lest it destroys everything I have worked to achieve. Everything I have created! I was wrong to say you deserved just hatred. I can see now that you deserve nothing less than DEATH!'

Harry seemed rather startled by that, and his eyes retreated slightly into his fringe.

'Well…' he said after a brief moment of silence, 'At least you were honest… But I'm afraid I cannot rest knowing you're sitting on the Earth's throne. You are truly an evil man Garcia. I think you'd agree I'd be doing the planet a favor by getting rid of you once and for all.'

'And so easily forget your personal battle with Voldemort?' Garcia retorted in a hastened voice.

'I will never forget what Voldemort has done Garcia, nor what he is capable of, know that. One evil will be dealt with at a time… but you will be the first. If not for the memory of those innocent Prodigens you killed, then I'll do it out of my own spite!'

Harry raised his hand slowly in Garcia's direction, and the old man flinched backwards in fear, feeling his destruction to be imminent… Was this how his saga was going to end, at the hands of an animal!

Just then Paratamizer lurched back suddenly into normal space, hurling both of them against the ship's metal interior. As hyper warp around the hull faded, Garcia quickly looked up out of the vision slits at the fore of the vessel, recognizing the enormous metal structures of the Celestial Gate. Earth was visible like a giant half sphere beyond, only shrouded by hundreds of large vessels that remained fixed in a blockade formation a few thousand kilometers ahead of them. It was HIS fleet! Salvation had come!

Turning to face his nemesis, Garcia saw a look of concern come suddenly over the Prodigens face… Potter seemed to understand exactly what he was staring at, and he bit his lip anxiously as Garcia felt a smug grin coming on.

'So Prodigen, you want to kill me do you!' he said in swagger, rising to his feet, 'I think not considering the blockade you see here. Without me alive, those warships will tear this vessel apart, along with whatever is in it! Do you want to see your precious family again? If so I suggest you see reason before making any rash decisions…'

Harry stared at the fleet, which was growing larger in the window as they approached, before switching his gaze back to Garcia, and then back to the fleet once more. His eyes were wide, taking in the vast array of military vessels blocking their path, and Garcia could see he was seriously thinking on this… But it wouldn't matter anyway, Garcia knew the Prodigen would be captured the moment their vessel was identified. And when that happened… he would finish the job he'd started years ago, by removing the last of his animal kind. There would be no one to contest his hold of the throne. NO ONE! 

'You ARE an evil man Garcia…' Harry said after a few tense moments, an icy slick of sweat appearing on his forehead as he floated there in indecision.

'Yes… you are quite right of course!' The older man replied, before laughing loudly. But Harry just stared at him malevolently, and Garcia's laugh faded as he tried to contemplate what the younger man was thinking.

'This is a lose, lose situation isn't it old man!' Harry half asked him in a dark voice, cracking his knuckles. 'Even if I did let you live, you'd see to it that my family is destroyed. I cannot let that happen. My daughter MUST have a future!'

'Your…? Your WHAT! You can't possibly be serious!' Garcia queried in panic, seeing Potter wished to destroy him anyway, regardless of the price, 'See sense for goodness sake, you cannot make it out of this alive. Think of yourself! Err… think of your daughter! She'll grow up without a father you know!'

'She's done that already, the least I can do is die to protect her future!' Harry retorted angrily, his robes billowing in a non existent wind, 'Besides, you'll kill her anyway if I don't stop your tyranny now!'

'RUBBISH!' Garcia yelled, slowly moving back towards the ship's control panels, Harry advancing at a glide. 'We… we can coexist! I'll make you royalty, an advisor! We can friends together… brothers!' he continued backwards, moving behind the pilots seat as though it were any barrier to the mental storm brewing in Harry's head. 

'No Garcia.' Harry said simply, merely three meters away, 'It's over for you now. I suggest you savor your rage one last time… before I enlighten you.'

Harry began to focus all of his anger within his mind, merging his thoughts with all the suffering and loss inflicted onto him by Garcia, and every other person in Voldemort's ranks. Bolts of electricity began to spider between Harry's outstretched fingers, preparing for the killing blow. He intended to be very thorough.

But before he could obliterate Garcia, the ship was hit heavily by something from the outside, and the inside compartments shuddered as they were both once again thrown to the walls.

'What the…?' Garcia shouted in disbelief, his gaze turning to the warships out of the window. The lead vessel, a Phantom class cruiser, had opened up it's massive curse batteries and fired upon them. Bright red bolts of cursed energy sparkled like fireworks across the myriad gun ports on it's hull, before descending upon Paratamizer with deadly accuracy.

Emergency lights flared within the ship to the sound of alarms, as critical systems began to short out and spark from the onslaught, throwing out the computerized navigation that Garcia had been operating. Automatically the ship's shields activated, repelling some of the battering fire as the giant cruiser loomed overhead like an enormous vengeful god, not ceasing it's attack for a moment.

Garcia could not help but stare in horror and disbelief, a tear coming to his eye as the cruiser's unprovoked attack signaled the loss of his power on Earth. Someone down there must have discovered his links to Telsacom or Voldemort, and deposed him of the Viridianship, taking the throne for themselves and ultimately, the command of the space navy. He couldn't describe the mortal loss at feeling the power over a world slip from his grasp, like his tears upon the unforgiving metal floor of his ship. He was Viridian no longer… did it matter? Did anything matter anymore? What good would it do to deny his fate at Potter's hands, there was nothing for him to go back to now…

'What a loyal fleet you have Garcia!' Harry taunted as he regained his bearings, 'Surely you can see now that you are defeated. You have nothing left. No fleet, no crown, no power. What else is there?'

Garcia's eyes remained fixed on the cruiser above, which continued to rain cursed death upon them. The shields would give out soon, and he would be nothing more than a memory of little importance to anyone once Paratamizer's hull was breached. Space was unforgiving…

Looking to Potter, he felt spent, and distraught. Without everything he had worked for, what else was there? Just as Harry had pointed out, he was at a turning point… and then a thought struck him.

Clenching his fists together, he turned slightly sideways, motioning his hidden hand over towards the nearby control panels.

'What else is there Prodigen?' Garcia asked Potter in a deceiving tone, 'There is PRIDE! I AM GARCIA! SLAVE TO NO PRODIGEN!'

And at once he hammered his fist down upon a bright green button, and a thick steel door suddenly slammed shut between Harry and himself, stunning Potter in it's boldness.

Harry's mouth dropped open for only a second, before his shock was replaced with rage, and he re-ignited the fires inside his head.

'AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!' he screamed, hurling a nova of white magic at the steel barricade, melting an enormous hole through it all the way to the other side. 'Did you really think a door was going to stop me…!'

Harry paused as he looked through the smoldering human sized gap into the cockpit, and his mouth dropped open once more. There was nobody inside, Garcia had disappeared into thin air!

A small flickering monitor on an overhead display showed that one of the escape pods had been jettisoned, and looking out the narrow vision slit, he saw a small round sphere fleeing the scene towards the planet, it's minute engine at full burn. Harry couldn't possibly contain his anger at losing Garcia so easily, his thirst for revenge unquenched. How could he have been so foolish not to have just loosed his magic upon the old man and have been done with it, instead of listing down the man's failures as Voldemort had done?

'DAMMIT!' he shouted aloud, and in absolute rage he smashed his fist into the metal walls of the ship, denting it. Calming himself, Harry took a moment to get recomposed as he tried to order his thoughts. Too often had he become enraged over trivial things, rather than thinking situations through. Though he reminded himself that losing Garcia at a critical time wasn't exactly trivial, the logical side of his mind told him that without his crown, Garcia's power was severely blunted. He felt it only a matter of time before they ended up meeting again, and Harry briefly pondered on it, promising himself that he'd make sure Garcia met the end he was meant for.

A crippling blast against the ship's outer hull brought Harry back to reality, and he remembered his position wasn't entirely safe. Though he was beginning to pull away from the overhead cruiser, the warship had already depleted much of his shield's energy, and it wouldn't be long before a single direct hit would spell the end. Hurriedly he made his way into the cockpit, taking a seat before the vast array of lighted controls and holographic systems. He was no expert at this that was for sure, but he knew roughly how to fly a ship, and these controls looked vaguely familiar… Pulling down upon a lever, he brought the ship off autopilot, before he grappled the manual controls levers and urged the ship forward at a velocity that threatened to kill him.

Behind him the cruiser adjusted it's course slightly to starboard, bringing as many weapons as it could to bear upon Harry's commandeered vessel. But at full thrust, the smaller ship was easily outpacing it's larger opponent making headway towards Earth's blue surface. The cruiser continued to fire without remorse on what it viewed to be an intruder, curse batteries ablaze as it vainly tried to destroy the former royal vessel. One lucky shot struck Harry's portside engines as the shield finally failed, flames and debris shooting out as his vessel careened towards the Earth in an uncontrolled decent, a stream of blackened smoke trailing out from behind. 

The levers in Harry's hands became immediately heavy as the ship spiraled through the superheated atmosphere, and he struggled to keep any semblance of control. Beside him the atmospheric meter blared warnings over and over, red lights flashing constantly with the sudden plunge of descent… The ground below almost seemed to surge forward towards him as thousands of feet went by in mere moments, Harry's last thoughts before blacking out were obscured by a ravenous hatred for Garcia. His time would come, of yes it would…

-

Far away on the other side of the solar system, Voldemort stood solemnly overlooking his mechanical terror; the sole creation of a Khorah class battleship, the only one of it's kind to grace reality… It's unfathomable size dwarfed any known military vessel in all dimensions of size, displacement and weapons tonnage, the very technology that formed it being so highly advanced, that it's very existence put fear into the hearts of the same twisted people that had first conceived such a leviathan ship. One could argue it's conception was a mistake, and that vessels this powerful were best left as figments of the imagination. But there was power in the idea, and where power existed, always Voldemort found himself on the edge of grasping it's full potential, no matter how foreign it seemed to him.

For many years he'd pondered the most obvious irony… that he who strived to be a pure blooded wizard in every manner, had grown such a grudging respect for the miracles of technology that it was now a complete contradiction to the world he'd intended to create. Magic was no longer in it's rightful place as the all powerful force driving everything, and much of the civilized galaxy had taken to the unbelievable things that tiny boards of electric conducting circuits could do. Admittedly, even he couldn't quite have seen the potential muggle technology had during his previous crusades against the wizard world. But now he felt a strange satisfaction, as this all powerful battleship, with it's myriad of technological pieces, embodied the point at which both wizard and muggle society would at last crumble to dust. With this ship, many would die, and all for a greater purpose… The quest for power!

Looking away from his grand creation, he stared down at one of his clawed hands, ignoring it's snake like scales as nanite machines seeped like sweat from the pores of his toughened skin, which promptly merged themselves together as a coherent mass that bubbled and molded itself into a small micro-processor. Guiding his free hand over the newly formed device, the processor activated, bringing up a small holographic display that showed the individual planets of the solar system all orbiting the bright yellow sun at it's center. A dotted line from his immaterial universe location showed where a crossing from limbo to reality had taken place, before it continued on unbroken passed the other planets in the system towards Earth, obviously in hyper-warp…

Wickedly he smiled… During the last encounter he'd had with Garcia, he'd secretly implanted a small tracking device onto the hull of his starship for the unlikely event he would escape before receiving his dues, and now he reveled at how effective it had become. The pompous and disloyal fool had traveled back to Earth as he'd predicted, as if he thought he could possibly regain his throne there whilst monumental plans were underway. Plans of which he was happy the heretic was no longer involved with.

With a mental command the nanites disassembled themselves, the device breaking down into a sticky metal blob that once more seeped back into his body. He doubted now whether anyone else could possibly see the potential in technology as he did. The power was so evident, it was only natural that during his Essence transformations, he would seek to become one and the same with the machines. Now he had the best of two worlds; the ancient mystical workings of Essence, and the fledging technical means of Creation. Two halves of a greater whole bound together as if ordained by fate, only his lacking of the final Narcissan book made him feel incomplete, not to mention the nagging desire he held in his mind to finally explore the enigmatic department of mysteries. He was proud of his long standing patience, waiting all these years to at last unravel the ministry's secrets, to gain the ultimate power over life and death with Essence, and perhaps… to tie up loose ends that even now threatened to bring his plans to destruction.

His thoughts dwelled on what was once a young boy of raven black hair and ordinary appearance. A familiar hatred filled him once more, as if that were the only emotion he now possessed. That, and the will to succeed.

'Smisharak!' he hissed into the dark voids of the platform, his voice echoing cruelly through the dimly lit corridors.

A dark mist rose from the darkness and circled at his feet, before it rose up beside him forming a darkly translucent being, whose form hovered there silently in constant change. One of his two personal servants; a hybrid Dementor…

'Yes…?' It replied in a sickly tone, it's voice exuding an aura of dread and unimaginable pain, 'How can I serve you my master?'

'I will come to that in a moment Smisharak, for now I seek merely knowledge… Did you feel any Essence within this room during your last summoning?'

For a moment the shadowy form remained silent, a dull light flickering within it's hazy mass as fractured thoughts transferred themselves throughout it's infernal form.

'I detected two… one of your book… the other, I am unsure. It is a new sensation, I have not yet encountered it's source before in the Limbo dimension…'

Voldemort grimaced, his blade-like teeth grinding like razors within the darkened shroud of his hood. His two glowing yellow eyes flared up momentarily before returning to their ambient shimmer.

'No… you wouldn't have. It is a sentient resonance Smisharak, from the material universe. Remember this name my servant; Potter… Harry Potter… It was he whom you felt in this chamber, an interloper who has cost me much during my years. And so, he is a threat to me. I have no doubt he witnessed our encounter with Garcia before.'

'Yes master…' it replied once more, 'Potter… Harry Potter…'

The dim light in it's shadowy form flickered brighter of a sudden as a new taste sensation absorbed itself into the hybrid Dementor. It went silent once more as it pondered the being's Essence power that was so different to that it was accustomed to. Quickly it formed a rasping, desperate breath.

'A very curious life form master, this… Potter… Young is he? Clean is he…?'

'Yes Smisharak… very young and very clean. His Essence source has not been tainted before, and he grows with power everyday. Constantly growing…'

'Master, I grow rapturous for this Potter… let me find him… let me feed! I must have all eternity to know his flesh… to taste his Essence!'

Voldemort steepled his clawed hands together in contemplation, formulating dire conundrums within his head. This had to be handled tactfully if all was to go as planned.

'Patience Smisharak, that is the key. You will have your rewards if you plan your moves like chess pieces. And the rewards will be great. Essence will be bountiful enough for you and your brother Darenkhare, not to mention your other kin, all two thousand of them. Potter is a well of power so great it could challenge even me, he is a feast worth having I assure you.'

The shadowy Dementor flickered again statically as it began to become excited, thoughts no longer making any sense or holding any relevance. All the mattered was the Essence, and the feast.

'Please my master! You must let me feeeeeeed! I need to taste him, my thoughts are in chaos… so much pain… so much loss…'

Voldemort turned to his shadowy companion, staring at it from the corner of his eye.

'I grant you my permission, so long as you follow my instructions to the letter. Tonight I will launch my great ship, with the combined fleets of Telsacom at my side. And with the newly coordinated army on Earth, I will hyper warp my vessels and lay siege to the planet. The capital will be left unprotected in the chaos for me to do as I wish, and you will have your opportunity… Here! Look upon this image…'

Tracing a few glowing lines into the air, a vague image of a beautiful woman appeared before the shadow and at once it knew. Somehow it knew within the chaotic thoughts in it's head… The image promptly disappeared into the air.

'Potter has delayed my plans many times before Smisharak, I do not intend to let it happen again. As hard and powerful as he is, his own humanity and love for his family will be his undoing. You now have the necessary means my servant, wait for the signal then do as your kind sees fit. Potter must not outlive this event.'

For a moment the shadow stayed silent, before suddenly it twisted and contorted, darkness flowing in numerous directions as it's hazy form stretched and solidified into a solid shape no longer translucent in any way. Featureless tendrils lengthened into long, elegant limbs, it's dim heart transforming itself into the perfect form of a young red haired woman who stood naked before Voldemort, chest heaving as a supreme example of human feminine qualities.

The dark lord however, looked past such mundane concepts as beauty, instead noting only how perfect Smisharak had assumed the female form in every detail, and the part it would play in his plans.

'Very good my servant… your guise is complete, you will find imitating a close family member of Potter will not be difficult…'

'Yes my master… we will soon know his flesh as we do our own. All of us!'

It was at this moment that Voldemort could envisage the fall of Potter once and for all. If he could not simply exterminate the Prodigen on his own, then he was quite willing to use an unwitting enemy to do the task instead… There before him, stood the perfect female specimen known only as…

…Ginny Potter. 

-

Hi all, I know it's been a long time since I updated last, so i really should explain. To say I've been really busy wouldn't be the whole truth, but in all honesty, this story survives only on reviews and when I don't get them quick, I have no motivation to write whatsoever. Afterall, how am I to know if any one is reading or appreciating my work? Anyway, I hope you're still with me on this, enjoy!

Richard. 


	16. The World's Problem

Chapter 16 – The World's Problem

Darkness…

The embodiment of fear…

The fears of mankind…

Such it is to reside in Limbo, where humanity's most basic fears are realized. A place of change, where what you believe to be true is just a façade to a darker reality, twisted and warped to become that which you never really wanted to know… There is no air, no water, no life… at least none as we know it. Light is fickle here, days and nights seeming unbearably long, often one and the same as the arduous transition from a dull red ambience fades into static black nothingness, where little more than the sickly green glow of nocturnal animals haunt it's deep places. For those who find themselves cast into this horrifying realm either by choice or by no fault of their own, it is an alternate dimension to the reality we know as ours. But it is twisted… corrupted… evil… and best described only as a shattered hell…

It is here, cut off from the material universe, that Smisharak existed amidst the torturous screams of his less evolved Dementor brethren, who lived in planet wide colonies numbering untold billions. Like a swarming tide, the most depraved and evil of mankind slipped into Dementor-hood, adding to their number at a constant rate. Never able to die, the Dementors seemed to Voldemort to be perfectly suited to the role of a merciless hunter, and in a bold move he snatched bitter handfuls of them to fight in his earthly war.

But it wasn't enough for him, and through experimentation, the Dark Lord created a hybrid between Dementor and ancient Essence magic that still lacks a formal name. Smisharak was one of two thousand of these identical beings forged by the hands of the Dark Lord, who remained trapped in Limbo save for the event of a summoning by their master. And it was here where mankind's terror spawns that their already twisted minds became ever warped, seeking only fear of others as a tonic to cure the chaos existing within themselves. But for Smisharak, that was about to change. He was different…

Smisharak sat silently upon a tall, jagged rock as he gazed up through the storming clouds of his nameless planet. Cut off from more sentient life forms outside this hell dimension, Smisharak had become an unexpected oddity amidst the droves of nightmarish creatures that inhabited this realm. Where once his form bore resemblance to the blackened, misty appearance of his scant brothers and sisters… now he had changed. At Voldemort's instructions he had molded himself a body of flesh and bone, differing little to the human he was masquerading as, save for the bitter, poisoned core that still resided within him.

A female form, Smisharak had mutated into a human that went by the name of "Ginny", and he considered it one step closer to his true goal of consuming her husband alive. Oh the very thought of how much Essence this Potter had almost made him shiver, and he realized of a sudden just how new that sensation was to him. He was unaccustomed to physical awareness, and he studied his new form with great interest even as an ice cold rain began to pour down upon him.

Without clothes, he sat naked upon the stone, sheets of acidic "water" flowing over his layers of pure and youthful skin. Impervious to the damaging effects of the acid rain, he expressed his curiosity as each drop burned smoldering holes into his new female flesh, only for the wounds to suddenly heal themselves over again in an instant, as if his form was untouched.

It was a novel experience… so much different to the everyday chaos he endured each day, and yet, he enjoyed it at the same time. He wasn't just changed, he noticed of a sudden. He was enhanced. Stretched beyond the frail and weakened constraints of a mere human, and of a more conscious self then the emotionless and hungry hybrid Dementor, he now embodied a creature more powerful than both, and able to change at will. Prior to his new instructions he'd had no need to morph into anything other than what he naturally was, as that original form was quite capable of hunting Limbo creatures for his meager sustenance. But with his evolution into human form, there came with it the organics of the human mind, which in itself proved something different yet again.

He found he was more logical than before, his new brain being able to calculate and judge, as well as process the myriad of experiences and sensations he'd previously had and tasted. Memories of his own life in the Limbo hell were taking shape at an astonishing rate, so much so that only his own experiences of madness prevented the new influx of information from cracking his psyche entirely. He was learning a new self, and every moment made him more aware of what he truly was, as well as the magnitude of his acquired thirst. Essence was no longer the only desirable sensation he could now attain, but his intense thirst for it was still unimaginable, and he gnashed his slender jaws in hunger. When would Voldemort require him for the task? He was insanely eager to begin.

Twisting his neck about to the right, he watched swarms of ravenous Dementors that flew amidst the violent storms like locusts, casting ominous shadows upon the wretched land. A lesser species to himself he understood, and he dismissed them from his mind entirely. They were of no use to him whatsoever, and he would make sure that none participated in the feast he would have over Harry Potter's bloody carcass. That, he now calculated, would need to be thought over, as if "thought" were something he'd never truly cared for, or known about. Yet another new sensation brought on by the complex human mind… Someone of such extreme power like this Essence wielding Prodigen, would no doubt have learned to protect himself well from threats. It would take cunning and skill to truly fulfill Voldemort's wishes and infiltrate the Potter family. Harry may indeed see through his incredible disguise and attempt to destroy him. That could not be allowed to happen. The feast must take place, his hunger satisfied.

Examining his perfect human body, his eyes traveled over his extremely luscious female figure before he abruptly stood from his stony perch and faced a strong wind, which blew back lochs of wavy, red hair behind him. His form would indeed be considered attractive by human standards, although he personally had no such interest this female body. It was merely a tool for memory, feeling, sensations, and most of all… murder.

Holding a slender hand in front of his face, he focused his mind on the elegant fingers that flexed to and fro, before suddenly they went pale and extended, shaping themselves into solid metal blades of cruel design. Staring down at his right arm, he took a wayward slash at it, taking the arm off in searing pain and pulsing blood. Agony of a physical sense rushed through his mind as fast as the curious red liquid dripped from the open wound, but he let none of it show upon his face as he refused to flinch, even retaining some semblance of a smile with his full, red lips. In an instant the severed limb disintegrated into the daemonic stone below, and a new arm, identical to the first, formed itself from nothingness as a replacement, which he flexed and moved about. Withdrawing the cruel metal claws back into the form of a hand, he smiled once more. He was indeed enhanced, and in a single bound had gone beyond anything human or hybrid could have achieved. And still there was magic… Another curious sensation beckoning at the far corner of his mind. That, he would experiment with later…

For days he waited for the enigmatic signal the Dark Lord had promised him, not flinching from his rock. Voldemort's ship had no doubt been launched by now, but how long ago he was unsure. The problem with this dimension was that time moved differently to the material universe. In the space of days in reality, weeks or even months could pass by in Limbo. It even worked in reverse sometimes, with days passing by in minutes or seconds. Somehow Voldemort had worked out this odd movement in time, and because of that he'd been able to construct a Battleship in Limbo over thirty years, where barely eleven had passed in the real world. That ship was destined for reality even now, and it would take with it the chaos and terror that made Limbo what it was. But that mattered little to himself, Smisharak thought deeply. All his mind was focused on was the feast of Essence he was destined to have. Slicing a sharp bladed finger across his smooth rounded breasts, he tried to pass the time as he waited for the signal to come, bloody wounds healing and re-healing upon themselves as the minutes, hours and days slowly ticked by.

But it wouldn't be long for him now, not long at all… 

Everything was just a blur… The ship, Garcia, the crash. Like some dim memory Harry recalled parts of his experiences in space. Experiences of which, he felt unwilling to recall again as they brought on a shiver within himself that he just couldn't handle. Prior to blacking out, he was spiraling out of control towards the Earth in his commandeered vessel… Now however as he reminisced, he turned his head downwards to see the Viridian's ship in a wrecked and burning heap upon the ground, it's once metallic form torn and damaged in innumerable ways. A long trail of destruction littered the crashed vessel's wake, where it had pounded into the ground hours before. Tree's uprooted and broken stuck up like sharp needles in the wild landscape, and other larger pieces of wreckage laid charred and unusable. If one would judge just how fast the ship had slammed into the ground, a figure could not be said. Harry thought it a miracle he had survived the crash at all.

When he had regained his consciousness in the battered cockpit, he found himself face to face with a young woman he was unfamiliar with. From her clothes he suspected she worked for the government or some such organization, and promptly asked her questions the moment he could use his mouth. To his relief the young woman was very friendly and offered all the assistance she could provide with her limited means. It felt odd to receive such kindness in this day and age, where people were generally on edge about everything. Harry felt ashamed to admit it, but he had long since forgotten the last time anyone had given him anything that made him feel good inside…

A few hours had gone by before he had been freed from a large section of metal plating that had trapped him for so long. And, after finding that thankfully he hadn't been injured in any way, he boarded the lady's Lev-Wing which hovered quietly on auto-pilot, and they took off. Harry looked curiously at the scope of the wrecked ship as they ascended into the atmosphere, and wondered for only a moment just where the original owner of it had gone to. He remembered something of an escape pod, and mused it could have landed anywhere, so there was no point in wondering.

As the Lev-Wing's dual thrusters kicked in, the two person vehicle rose upwards into the clouds, Harry's new companion manning the controls with exceptional dexterity.

'Looks like you been through quite an ordeal down there.' She spoke in a humorous manner, 'Did you have a mechanical malfunction or something? Your ship looks thoroughly wrecked.'

'You could say that…' Harry said shortly, receiving a rather bemused expression from the younger woman. He had to improvise…'It was an Electrical fault.' He quite obviously say what had really happened.

'Electrical eh!' she laughed sarcastically, 'Say no more. Unstable stuff that electricity, don't really know why people bother using it anyway, stupid muggle creation. What's wrong with good old fashioned magic huh? It never used to be like this you know? People mixing their magical business with technology that is. Why, I remember a time when the muggles didn't even know us wizards existed, course I was too young to remember much else.'

'Of course…' Harry put in, feeling drained and weary. And he blocked the woman out of his conscious mind, letting her rant on and on as the Lev-Wing surged onwards through the clouds…

Many hours had passed before Harry opened his eyes, having apparently dozed off mid-flight even whilst the pilot talked endlessly about her experiences or whatever else suited her fancy. Though he felt relieved to have not wasted his time listening to her maddening tales, he blushed slightly out of embarrassment at having ignored her for so long. He was afterall, her guest on this flight, and she would be well within her rights to throw him out mid-air if she thought he wasn't paying close enough attention to her life story.

Turning his head slightly to the right, he watched as his companion deftly steered the Lev-Wing on it's course, thankfully having decided to shut her mouth after so long. Abruptly she turned towards him, and she looked surprised to see him awake after so many hours.

'Good evening sunshine.' She said in a happy tone, 'Nice of you to wake up, we're almost at our destination.'

Harry blinked in confusion.

'Destination?' he mused, stroking his chin, 'Strange, I don't actually remember saying where I wanted to go…'

The woman looked towards him sympathetically, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be paying attention to where she was going.

'Is that so? Maybe you have a concussion coming on, that graze on the other side of your head looks pretty bad. I dismissed it earlier but now I think you might need someone to take a look at it… I think it's starting to get infected or something.'

Harry gave her a quizzical look before reaching his hand to the back of his head, where he winced in pain after feeling something very sore. Must've gotten it during the crash. Ignoring it for the moment he looked to the woman who had once again turned her attention to the sky ahead, which had become a radiant orange as the sun slowly slipped over the horizon. 

'I'll be sure to worry about it later. But where did I say I wanted to go?'

Not diverting her gaze, she slowed the Lev-Wing down a tad.

'Well… you didn't actually tell me where you wanted to go, you just passed out from exhaustion. So I decided for myself. I figured, if there's anyone who'd know what to do with you, then it would be Albus Dumbledore. So I'm taking you to Hogwarts.'

Harry sat there stunned unable to believe his good fortune.

'Err… Thankyou.'

'Oh it's nothing really, I was on my way past there anyway, so I thought I'd drop you off there whilst I had the chance.'

'Well I thank you all the same, I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't picked me up.'

The woman gave a wry laugh at that, slowly lowering the Lev-Wing's altitude through the atmosphere.

'Most likely you'd still be in your ship… or what's left of it anyway. It's odd really, just looking at the damage you had on that thing, I'm surprised you survived at all Mr Potter.'

Harry's eyes widened.

'You know my name!' he blurted out in surprise, mouth dropping open. The woman didn't bother to avert her gaze as a small smile itched at the corner of her mouth.

'Well yeah, you can say that if you like. That scar on your forehead is a one of a kind. Sort of gave you away it did. However…' and at this she stared right at him, mouth working slightly, 'I thought you were supposed to have green eyes. That's what all the history books seem to say about you anyway, but yours look as though they've never seen the light of day.'

Harry grimaced slightly as he remembered his eyes had taken on a curious shade of grey from his extensive use of Essence magic.

'Just the effects of time, that's all.' He said simply, speaking only the quarter truth, 'I'm not the same person that I was during my school years.'

Furrowing her brow, she pushed forward on the control column, sending the Lev-Wing downwards through the final layers of cloud.

'So it seems…' She said after a moment.

With a roar of wind the Lev-Wing flew over the green landscape below, which stretched for miles in a series of patchwork fields. Large meadows of green and yellow were laid before him as he began to recognize where he was, back where he remembered… Gliding over the crest of a large hill on upward drafts of hot air, Hogwarts huge spires suddenly came into view from out of nowhere, making him sit back in awe. The magical castle stood proudly in it's finest livery as their craft circled about the largest towers towards the southern spires, where metal landing platforms had been erected years ago to facilitate the newly invented Lev-Wings.

'Yes…' the woman said with interest, staring down at the platform, 'That'll do nicely.'

Maneuvering over the landing area, the Lev-Wing's twin thrusters pivoted downwards to blast superheated columns of air towards the ground, landing gear outstretched to meet the tarmac.

'To say that meeting you was an honor would be an understatement Mr Potter,' the woman said as she opened the side door, Harry stepping out on unsteady feet, 'My father has a high regard for you, defeating the dark lord the first time around and all. I guess his infectious respect has grown on me all these years, it was a pity he could not meet you in person as I have.'

'The feeling is mutual.' Harry replied in earnest, drawing his tattered robes tightly over himself as a cold wind passed through, 'Please give him my regards for me. And again, thank you. Your help is most appreciated.'

Returning a warm smile, she gave him a wink and shut the door closed, engines whining quickly as the Lev-Wing lifted off from the ground once more, flying off into the distance before at last disappearing through the clouds… He felt happy in a way, nice people were quite difficult to find in this day and age. And most of all, he hadn't been forgotten as he'd previously thought, despite often wishing that people would.

Turning about, he headed towards the closest entry to the castle over the other side of the landing pad, briefly taking in a quick glance at the sky above him. The sun had disappeared over the horizon, and grey storm clouds were slowly making their way in from the south, making him feel rather dark and gloomy. Again he tightened his grip around his robes, before feeling the familiar burden of the Narcissan books weighing down in his pockets. The two ancient books that he'd stolen from Voldemort's lair, placed a heaviness over his heart that Harry couldn't quite seem to describe.

Such incredible power radiated from them even inside his pockets, so much so that he just wanted to throw them off the castle walls and never hear from them again. And yet… another part of him desperately wanted to absorb them to feel more complete. The voices continually echoed in his mind, and he knew them well to be creations of the Essence he'd been using. But despite this knowledge, he felt sure he was still going mad… He'd have to do something with them soon, but decided that for now he'd consult professor Dumbledore first. Though the old wizard was in increasingly failing health, Harry still thought him a wise and reserved man, and he'd be doing a great wrong by absorbing the books without at least becoming aware of any consequences that might follow. It was the least he could do.

A sudden rumble of thunder echoed a few kilometers from him, before he felt heavy rain drops land on his exposed skin. A shiver passed through him, and he quickly headed inside to the shelter of the castle, as more and more rain began to fall outside. The drops clattered on the tiled rooftops above, and Harry pulled back his hood before heading down a secluded flight of stairs that spiraled into the main body of the castle, his steps echoing loudly on the cold stone floors.

After passing numerous corridors and passageways with odd silence ringing in his ears, he came to the startling revelation that wasn't a single person in sight anywhere that he looked… Overall the castle was surprisingly dusty, though that couldn't be considered that unusual. But what really struck him was how the wall torches and fireplaces remained unlit in every room he looked in, which seemed strange as the house elves employed by Hogwarts would never allow anything of the like to go unnoticed for long.

By his understanding, students should now be at the nightly feast. But he heard no commotion, no sounds of food being eaten by hungry youngsters, and no teachers casing the hallways in search of stragglers. It was almost as if the entire castle was deserted overnight… Where was everybody?

Walking on in silence for a couple of minutes, he came upon the familiar sight of the large stone gargoyle that stood sentry at Dumbledore's office. If there wasn't anyone in there then there was certainly something going on which would need to be investigated. Calling out a random password he'd heard over the years, he felt surprised when the gargoyle lurched and swung out of his way. Was the professor losing his touch, not regularly updating his password? Dismissing it momentarily, he headed up the spiral staircase that revolved upwards into Dumbledore's cavernous office. Perhaps here he could get some answers, and yet the scene that greeted him wasn't what he'd been expecting.

Dumbledore's private study hadn't changed a bit since he'd left a few days ago, with funny little objects still scattered about with no regard, yet still looking somewhat impressive. But at it's far end, Harry saw Dumbledore sitting groggily in his gilded chair, hands draped over it's armrests. The old man was seemingly preoccupied as he stared into space, while he puffed lazily on a long pipe that produced acrid clouds of smoke around him. As Harry cleared his throat loudly, Dumbledore looked at him with surprise, his withered eyes refocusing slowly. He seemed thoroughly astonished to see the younger man there before him, wet and cold from the rain, whilst dressed in torn robes that only added to his discomfort.

'Harry?' he spoke in a strained voice, coughing as he inhaled one puff of smoke too many.

'Yes professor.' Harry replied, taking a few steps closer as Dumbledore forced himself up from his chair. The old wizard looked terrible, really showing his age despite putting on an unexplainable expression of relief.

'I admit I was starting to fear the worst for you, with so long passing by, and no word coming from you at all. Everyone has been very on edge since you left…'

Harry went still as he listened to the apparent concern in Dumbledore's words, and furrowed his own brow in confusion.

'I'm sorry sir… but at most I've only been gone two days.'

'No Harry!' Dumbledore spoke sharply, taking his pipe out his mouth, 'You have been gone well over a month now. Where have you been all this time, many have given you up for dead?'

Harry felt suddenly weak in the knees and he motioned himself over to a stool to sit. Over a month! Had he really been gone for so long?

Quickly he relayed everything that had occurred during his trek. The freighters that had been shot down by fighter craft and the Celestial gate, Garcia's links to Voldemort, the enormous ship that had been constructed in Limbo, even the hybrid Dementors and the Dark Lord's plans for his army. Nothing did he leave out, and Dumbledore sat back at his seat listening patiently to the whole thing, occasionally lifting an eyebrow here or stroking his chin in thought there. Yet overall he seemed quite unsurprised by everything he'd been told, leaving Harry somewhat bemused by it all.

'I beg your pardon professor, have you somehow learnt this for yourself already?' he asked with keen interest, trying to measure the expression of the old man's face. Dumbledore sat tiredly in his seat, without seeming to have heard a word.

'Interesting… very interesting. This will explain much about your absence from us. You were in Limbo, time works in mysterious ways in that place.'

Without giving Harry a chance to reply, he took another quick puff of his pipe, sucking in ungodly amounts of rancid smoke. And again he choked wretchedly as the poisonous gas filled his lungs.

'To answer your question Harry, I have been informed quite recently about the Dark Lord's movements, though not in quite so much detail as you have provided me… A certain acquaintance of yours told me much, and has thus allowed for preparations to be made to defend ourselves for what will no doubt be an inevitable onslaught.'

And in a strained movement, he pulled from beneath his desk his all too familiar Pensieve, and opened it's lid to reveal it's pearly white depths… Inside a recent image swirled into existence, and Harry leaned forward to see milky white shapes slowly turn into the forms of three men. One of them was Garcia.

'The Viridian!' Harry shouted aloud as he stared at the gloating face, and his anger spiked inside him again at having not killed him earlier. Casually though, Dumbledore rose his hand in a small, calming gesture, and Harry held himself in check for now.

'I am afraid he is no longer the Viridian king Harry. It was made official over a week back. Several references to bribes were found in Garcia's paperwork, mostly with Telsacom corporation.'

'Bribes?' Harry asked him curiously, looking up from the Pensieve. 'What do you mean?'

'Garcia was giving legal exceptions to Telsacom to build military vessels to protect their trade routes, in exchange for a large slice of their yearly profits. Though mostly light, fighter craft, they are nonetheless illegal and are most likely the ships responsible for most of the attacks on civilian shipping. The Celestial gate itself is a different matter entirely, but the bribes alone were more than sufficient to depose him from power… And to think I once thought of him as my friend.'

Dumbledore grimaced slightly, before he once again resorted to his long pipe, producing another cloud of smoke.

'So he is gone then?' Harry asked hesitantly, and Dumbledore looked up to him through the smoke. He gestured once more to the Pensieve and Harry leant over it again to watch the remainder of the memory, which played out to him like an old fashioned movie.

The gloating expression on Garcia's face changed slowly into a hateful scowl, and in a heartbeat the two other men at his sides grabbed him by the shoulders. They were Aurors, and Garcia struggled vainly as his two captors began to haul him away forcibly… Garcia screamed and shouted curses and insults that Harry couldn't hear, until at last he was silenced with a blow to the head, and dragged away with his boots scraping the floor. The memory faded back into the milky white substance, and Harry sat down feeling stunned…

'Garcia was found nearby a crashed escape pod, soon after his own ship was discovered entering Earth's space and consequently fired upon. He was arrested immediately, and is now destined for a dark and lonely cell in Azkaban prison, where hopefully, he will never again do the world harm. There is no doubt from both his account and yours, that he was intricately involved in Voldemort's schemes. I only wished we had known more of him before this entire fiasco began.'

Harry sat back, feeling strangely relieved. Garcia was such an incredible thorn at his side, and there were moments when he feared the monarch would do harm to his family. But that was all over now, and Harry felt his anger disappearing from him with each breath. Though the Dementors were no longer in control of Azkaban's inmates, the Aurors chosen to replace them were just as cruel, and Harry was absolutely sure that Garcia would suffer many years, and die a slow and lonely death. That was a greater revenge than even he could have hoped for… 

'I'm happy it's turned out this way,' Harry said in a strangely subtle voice, 'I hated that man so very much.'

Dumbledore seemed partly satisfied too, but didn't look as though he was finished when he extinguished his pipe and sat back with his arms folded together.

'I am afraid it's not over just yet Harry. Garcia's arrest may very well have been an important step, but we must not fail to understand that he is now considered irrelevant by Voldemort. To have slipped back to Earth so easily would mean the Dark Lord is not concerned about him relinquishing information regarding his plans. And that is dangerous, as it could well mean he is implementing them right now. All the evidence points to it.'

'I beg your pardon professor, evidence?'

'Yes… evidence…' and in a whip of his wand, a transparent map suddenly appeared over Dumbledore, with important landmarks showing up as red dots. A large black mass which would easily have stretched unbroken for a hundred miles in several directions, appeared conspicuously towards the southern tip of the British Isles.

'What is that?' Harry asked curiously as he gestured to the blackened mass. He could see faintly that around the edges it was pulsing in a stomach churning kind of way.

'That Harry, is Voldemort's land army.'

Harry's eyes almost popped out of his head in horror at just the sheer scale of the force Voldemort was bringing to bear upon the world. The Dark Lord had indeed changed his tactics. This seemed unbelievably aggressive.

'That's his army? ALL THAT!' he exclaimed loudly, and Dumbledore nodded in affirmation. A small from was visible on his wrinkled face.

'I'm afraid so. Voldemort has quite evidently been spending many years accumulating dark creatures, for his army to have reached such immense proportions… It suddenly formed together soon after you left, and has been torching towns and cities wherever it marches. Watching it's progress has proved straining and difficult for me at best, but what I have noticed is that over time it has formed itself into a horseshoe formation, around London.'

Harry recalled Voldemort's speech to Garcia, and remembered how he was using his army to put pressure on the World Senate. From what he knew, the combined power of the senate controlled an enormous energy shield around the city and much of the surrounding countryside. Shared control was meant to symbolize strength with unity, as was shown during the last war. With the invisible but ever-present shield in place, London was impervious to any kind of attack from space, which was seen as the most likely threat to world stability… But if the unity failed and the senate fled the capital, then the shield too would fail and the capital would become vulnerable to the unearthly weapons of Voldemort's battleship. And if that happened, the world would fall, and a new reign of terror would begin.

'As it stands, refugees from London have been fleeing through the gap in the army's lines to the relatively safe country beyond. There has been much panic, as the carrier centers servicing gate travel have all gone offline for some inexplicable reason. I believe Garcia may have had something to do with it.'

Harry couldn't believe his ears, and he slumped in his chair as what appeared to be a no win situation was getting worse and worse by the minute. How could Voldemort have planned so much?

'For the sake of London's civilians,' Dumbledore continued, 'not to mention the people living on the outskirts, escape through that horseshoe gap is their best hope for survival.'

Harry felt sorry beyond belief for those trapped in Voldemort's ever closing net of terror, and he wished there were some way he could fix everything. But from his travels, he knew that even the most powerful of wizards cannot change everything, no matter how much he would wish it… Suddenly a terrifying thought struck him.

'My family! What about my family!' he asked frantically, staring into Dumbledore's eyes for some reassurance, 'Are they ok? Where are they?'

Dumbledore calmed him again with that infernal hand gesture, and spoke in a tired voice; 'They are fine Harry, do not worry yourself. I recognized the possible danger the moment that army formed itself, and told Ginny to come to Hogwarts immediately. It's far safer here, and she was more than willing to come, with your daughter of course. I had informed Mrs Weasley of the situation as well, though she and Arthur seemed rather reluctant to join us here. They're taking the remainder of the family up north away from all this, apparently Charlie has some kind of winter retreat up there. I couldn't see any harm in it so I didn't choose to talk them out of it.'

'But my wife and daughter are here, aren't they?'

'Yes… they're here, and they're safe. Ginny has become quite worried for you since you left. That time delay in Limbo has given her weeks without you, so I think she's starting to think she's lost her husband again. Suffice to say that though I've reassured her as much as I can, she won't truly be calm until you see her yourself.'

Harry nodded his head, he understood very well what was necessary.

'Yes, I know. I'll be sure to see them both tonight, I know that I for one will be happy to see her.'

'I'm sure of it. Nevertheless, now is as dangerous time as ever for us. This horseshoe formation the army is taking cannot possibly be random. I'm sure it was planned prior to this. It's too much of a coincidence that London is evacuating through the gap, but so far I've been unable to ascertain why. Do you have any ideas?'

Harry looked at the map that hovered there in front of him, watching the army jostle and spread like an advancing cancer.

'The energy shield…' he said sharply, taking Dumbledore off his guard, 'I heard Voldemort discussing it with Garcia. He wants the shield lowered so he can bombard London with his new warship. The senate needs to have fled for that to happen.'

Dumbledore furrowed his brow in deep thought, but Harry could see the pieces coming together judging by the look in his eyes. Possibilities had opened to him.

'Yes…' he said softly, 'Yes, that would explain it well. If London falls there's no telling what he might do next.'

'We need to guard ourselves professor. Regardless of whether that shield is down or not, the moment that battleship gets into weapons range, it's over! Have we got anything that could at least slow it down?'

Waving his wand once more, Dumbledore altered the map to instead show a celestial makeup, with Earth clear and labeled with other unearthly bodies also marked down. Thousands of green arrows appeared in formation around the Celestial gate, with many more lining up in row after row behind them, making the gate look like a giant porcupine in space.

'With Garcia deposed, control of the fleet was passed to the next most senior member of the World Senate… Me. I now have exclusive power over all of Garcia's previous naval power, and upon learning of Voldemort's battleship, I commanded all able vessels for sentry duty around the gate. I plan to ambush that ship if it arrives.'

'What if the ship arrives cloaked, your ships may have little effect if they cannot even see the enemy?'

'Yes, I thought of that, but when leaving hyper warp, ships leave an identifiable energy signature that I will have no trouble in detecting. I only hope that Voldemort doesn't have any more surprises for me, I am taking a great risk in leaving Earth unguarded in this manner. I have well over two thousand vessels at my disposal Harry, and a combined crew numbing into hundreds of thousands. When that battleship arrives, I do not know how high a price we will pay in lives.'

It was the intolerable penalty that humanity would pay that concerned Harry most as he left Dumbledore's office late that night. To him the future seemed unclear, and quite prickly at best. If Dumbledore's amassed fleet was unable to overcome the Battleship's highly advanced technology, then all would be lost regardless of how much destruction Voldemort's army wreaked upon the world. It left him feeling lost and confused as he walked from the office, his head thumping with all the information Dumbledore had drilled into him.

Walking at a slow pace down the lonely corridors, he recalled Dumbledore's reasoning behind the castle being empty… The parents of Hogwarts students had been terrified by the news that an army had formed itself in the south, and all students were shipped back home just for good measure, even though Hogwarts was quite clearly the safest place in the world for anyone. It almost seemed to defy belief that an inevitable war was upon them all, but alas, the world was changing once again, and Voldemort had still not been eradicated. He was a cancer that needed to purged as soon as possible…

With the torches unlit around the castle, every hallway he progressed down was dark and eerie, with only the dull light shining through stained glass windows providing cold comfort. A flash of light momentarily lit up the stone walls as a bolt of lightening struck outside, followed by an increased downpour of rain against the glass. The incessant tapping noise of the rain outside drove home deep emotions within him, and he felt despair that the world was coming to such utter chaos yet again. Despite twenty years having passed, it still felt like yesterday when Grindelwald's tampering with the muggle world had sent wizards into all out war, and nearly ended their existence entirely. Now a little known fact, muggles had long since outnumbered wizards by many millions long before the war had started, and he knew that only his defeat of Grindelwald had prevented further bloodshed and woe.

But to feel a grudge at having not had a little recognition for his deed would prove foolhardy in this day and age. Almost a year had passed since he'd returned to his wife, and feelings of hate had been replaced with the madness of Essence. He had spent so long having absorbed only one of the Narcissan books, and it was slowly driving him mad that he had not yet absorbed the others he had collected. But foolishly as was usually the case, he'd waited and then told Dumbledore all about the books he'd taken from Limbo. To his dismay, Dumbledore had insisted he keep them for safety, that they were in fact, too dangerous for him to even handle. Harry had tried to fight the decision of course, but it was useless, Dumbledore would have none of it.

It cut deep that the headmaster would keep the books from him, but what was more, was that Dumbledore also insisted that his part to play in this tale was now over. No more could be asked of him, so Dumbledore claimed, and his fighting days should be set aside in favor of protecting his family. The idea incensed him to a degree as he knew he would never give up trying to hunt Voldemort down, but as he thought on it, he realised that the older man had a distinct point. His own family should take priority, and he remembered that it was only out of love for them that he had survived for so long out on the streets in the first place. Everything just felt like such a huge burden to him. His magic, Voldemort, and his own family, all weighed most heavily on his mind… Perhaps Dumbledore was right afterall. Perhaps he should retire from this. There was no telling how long Voldemort would remain at large, and he felt damn sure he didn't want to spend another twenty years tracking him while his family wondered whether he would ever come home again or not…

Harry cried tears as he wandered onwards, progressing up moving staircases towards a special section of visitor's apartments, where his wife had retired for her stay in the castle. It was time he felt peace. Ginny and Genevieve needed him more than the rest of the world did, and he needed them even more then that. Dumbledore was indeed a wise man, and he felt sure that if anyone could possibly defeat the Dark Lord, then he could… Putting his hatred of Voldemort to one side, Harry calmed himself before entering one of the rooms on the upper levels, only for his eyes to land on Ginny's beautiful form that laid curled up on a large bed in the middle of the room.

Hearing commotion, Ginny's eyes opened hazily, and she propped herself up with an arm as her vision focused on the figure who had entered the room.

'Ginny?' Harry asked with a soft, velvety voice, arousing the angel who laid on the bed. Ginny froze for a moment, her eyes wide in the darkness of the room, until recognition struck her and she moved quickly from the bed. Running towards her husband she hugged him tightly, pushing the wind from him as tears of joy streamed down her face, sobbing into his torn robes.

'Harry! Harry, is it really you!' she cried into his sleeve without respite, clutching him so tightly that he may never leave her grasp. 'I thought … when you didn't come back, I thought… I thought… Oh Harry, HARRY!'

'Hush Ginny,' he replied to his sobbing wife, stroking her lochs of wavy red hair with a strong hand, 'I'm here now, I'm alright… Shhh…'

Ginny continued to sob, but Harry gently lifted her chin with his finger, before sliding it slowly down her face over her moist, red lips… Looking into her deep brown eyes, she stood there entranced by him, and her breathing slowed down, calming her.

'I was so worried about you…' she whispered to him, holding his hand against the side of her face, 'When you didn't come back, I thought the worst. I thought you were dead. That I had lost you again. I was scared Harry… so scared…'

'It's over now Ginny,' Harry spoke to her, running his hands slowly over her blouse, 'I've… pushed away my anger… I'll not leave you on such a crusade again, I promise.'

'But what about Voldemort? He's still out there. How will you…?'

Harry silenced her again, placing his finger over her lips, drawing himself closer to her.

'I know Ginny,' he whispered, 'He's still out there… but the world can fend for itself from now on. I've made a decision. I've wasted so much of my life pursuing him… I've wasted much of your life, and Genevieve's for no avail. I'm tired, and I cannot continue this much longer. Voldemort is the world's problem now, let's let the world take care of him now. All that matters to me at this moment is my daughter, and… my… beautiful… wife…'

He leant closer, not an inch from her face as he whispered sweet songs in her ears. Songs he once relished to perform with her when they'd first been married so long ago. Ginny's lips parted slowly, her eyes closing in contentment as she met him in a passionate kiss… Harry's strong hands wrapped carefully over her shoulders, sliding the straps of her gown slowly down over her arms…

'Harry…' Ginny breathed as he kissed her gently across the neck, her gown falling to the floor as she absent mindedly pushed the robes from her husband's strong but scarred body. A feeling of peace overwhelmed her, and hours passed by without notice… Harry's powerful form laid naked over her, breathing profoundly as her own conscious self was transcended past any kind of physical pleasure she'd experienced. Their bodies were one, merged together in a passionate embrace as Harry's hands glided gracefully over her body. She could feel the tension from years of fighting leech slowly from his body as he took her in his arms, exploring her beautiful female form as though he knew it intimately.

Her heart was pounding the whole time, the joy at having her husband again only heightening her passion as they both touched each other with ecstasy, their love knowing no bounds. Faintly she heard quiet gasps from her mouth as her boy quivered, before Harry covered her lips once more in an infatuated kiss. Somewhere as her mind fought vaguely to overcome the intense feelings of pleasure she was experienced, she believed Harry's promise without thought. He belonged to her again, her and her alone.

Their divine sexual pleasure bore on through the long, cold night, as rain pattered against the windows, bolts of lightening illuminating the night sky… Nothing could come between them now. Nothing. All that existed was their merging spirits, as well as love, lust and ecstasy…

But elsewhere, far from Hogwarts… far from any kind of civilization whatsoever, Garcia sat alone on the prison island of Azkaban. Confined in darkness, he nursed innumerable cuts and bruises over his face, testament to the beatings he'd received from the prison guards, even as ice cold water thrown against the tower by the surrounding sea leaked into his cell, freezing him to the bone. His eyes hurt to open, amidst the cold and the pain he felt all over. Several of his bones had been shattered by the harsh treatment he had received, and left to fester and cause pain throughout the horrible nights. Nothing but the maddening screams of other inmates kept him awake and unable to sleep, and it reminded him just where he was heading if things stayed like this.

The transition for him had not been easy, and on his second night he had tried and failed in an escape attempt. The guards had not shown any remorse, and promptly threw him into the dirtiest cell they could find, whilst promising to issue him a punishment worth remembering. For days he waited in fear, dreading each and every moment that passed by as he was reminded by passing guards what laid in store for him. And every day they would not deliver, but seemed to take delight in taunting him further…

With his eyes almost blinded by blood and sores, a light appearing at his cell door attracted little attention, until a bucket of ice cold sea water was thrown over him, bringing him back from the verge of sleep.

'Arrgghh!' he spluttered, eyes forcing open despite the pain, taking in three large men who had entered his cell. One was carrying a large empty bucket, which was suddenly thrown at his face, hitting him hard on the forehead… Garcia yelled in pain, and crawled away as fast as he could go into the corner of the cell away from the light. The three men laughed at his futile attempt at hiding…

'It's time old man.' Said one of the men aloud, drawing a long rolled up parchment from his pocket. He cleared his throat as he read the script written upon it, a small flame flickering over his hand for light.

'As it written in the texts, the law shall be upheld…' he began impassively, drawing sniggers from the other two guards.

'For attempted escape, we have no choice but to sentence upon you the losing of a finger, so help you!'

'SO HELP YOU!' the other two chanted by him almost religiously, unable to suppress their wretched grins. Through the haze of his bloated vision Garcia could see little of the men and their features, but his hearing was perfect and his eyes well enough to recognize a silver bladed knife drawn in front of his face.

Again he tried to struggle away, but two of the men held him down with an iron grip as the third grabbed his hand tightly.

'Let this be a lesson to you old man…' the wielder whispered into his ears, 'This may hurt a little….'

And in a swift, yet excruciating movement, Garcia felt his skin pierced and bone sliced forcibly, his own shrieks of agonizing pain doing nothing to silence his wards, who's horrible laughter echoed long into the night… 


	17. Mimic

Chapter 17 – Mimic

(A/N: "Take heed, this chapter contains adult themes which discuss feelings of depression and suicide. What is written here is not meant to offend or to suggest actions to be taken by you, but it is hoped that through this chapter, people are enlightened to a condition that today is affecting more and more across the world each day, sometimes fatally. Depression can kill, I have experienced it myself for years, and I know very well that it is not to be taken lightly…"

Richard.

Far out at sea, Garcia shivered from the cold as rain began to leek into his squalid cell, chilling him from the inside out. Wrapping his tattered and worn rags about himself, he did whatever he could to shield himself from the demon weather raging outside… Another storm had begun to lash ceaselessly against the prison walls, and the lack of light meant that he felt unsure of exactly what time it was, as night and day just passed by without so much as a change in temperature. All he knew was that this prison was cold… so INSANELY cold! Inside he cursed himself, as never during his time as Viridian did he think to ask just where the prison was located. That fact could have helped his situation a lot.

However, the fact that he didn't know where he was didn't mean that he should give up trying to run. Though as he brought up his hands before his blurred vision, he understood just how much of a price trying to escape had caused him, and he shivered once more, this time in fear…

His first escape attempt had ended in complete disaster, and to his dismay he had lost a finger as punishment. Nothing more than a ruined and bloody stump remained where the finger had once been, forcibly cut from his hand in a violent and bitter struggle. But it felt even worse to him as he looked at his other hand, which also had a finger missing, and a similar bloody stump. His second attempt at escape, ending as miserably as the first with just as terrible a consequence, the wardens had joked with him that day that they should remove all of his fingers and perhaps a few limbs in advance, just in case he wished to tempt fate again. Something he dreaded the thought of, and didn't take it lightly as he knew from the guard's behaviour that jokes could become deadly serious after a few drinks between shifts, and that wouldn't do him very well at all. But he didn't intend for that to happen, so he waited impatiently, keeping an ear out to listen for the comings and goings of his wards, learning anything he could of his situation before trying something so foolhardy again.

An interesting discovery that he thought of between strangled lapses of sleep, was that at certain times, the guards changed over… Sure it made sense to keep them fresh and alert of course, but on more than one occasion he had heard snores coming from outside, and he had risked quick glances several times beneath the door, only to see a sleeping wizard keeping a poor vigil on his cell, his wand hanging loosely from his robe pockets.

How his mind wandered as he thought of that vulnerable wand, it was practically waiting to be taken, and he began to dream of ways he could do just that. If he could just get his remaining fingers around that wand's handle, his chances at escape would improve ten fold. He would be armed, and would also have a means at escape as he knew the old fashioned method of Apparating, which people no longer seemed to want to do these days for reasons unknown. But how to get it remained the problem.

The lazy guard wasn't entirely negligible. Seldom did he sleep for long, and he always made a point of checking on his prisoners every time he woke. That was a problem he had to deal with, he could ill afford the man waking as he attempted to work his own plans. But he felt confident at least that there would be a way around it, there was always something in the surrounding environment that was of some use, no matter how meager it may seem.

Looking down at his right wrist, he curiously felt at where a blade had once been concealed in a mechanical device beneath his skin. However, little remained of this old fashioned but still somewhat useful device, as it had been one of the first things taken from him when he had been captured by the Aurors. A long and ill healed cut now resided on the spot, blemishing his skin which was turning black and blue around the wound. He hated the idea that wizards were using metal detectors these days. It meant even the most rudimentary of weapons couldn't possibly be hidden. A device he hadn't had the foresight to ban during his reign.

But he saw to his delight that his captors hadn't done an entirely successful job of removing the weapon, as although they had torn most of it out, a small fragment of metal remained lodged beneath his skin, which they had not thought to scan for before carting him off to his cell… Yes! There was always something…

Agonizingly, he tore open the long cut with his fingernails, drawing slivers of blood that poured painfully across his arm. He made sure not to make so much as a whimper of pain as he pushed two slender fingers into the wound, reaching far under his skin to the tiny piece of jagged metal, which he grappled painfully at before withdrawing it amidst a bloodied hand.

He almost collapsed from the pain he had undergone, but forced himself to stay conscious as he kept sight of his goal, turning the metal about in the failing light…

For the next few hours he scraped the piece across the stone floor, checking it every so often as it grew sharper and sharper. He enjoyed how the activity kept his mind off the ever lasting cycle of time, escaping his boredom to the quiet, yet obsessive noise of the metal against the stone. Tools were hard to come by in such a place, he almost considered himself lucky.

Feigning obedience as grubby plates of food were tossed to him through a mail sized slot in his door, he continued to work silently on the metal shard, occasionally using the horrible excuse for food as a lubricant or coolant, so that he progressed constantly on his tool… It was in fact, considerable time before it was completed. The metal itself was an intriguingly strong alloy that had been created using magic and technology, and therefore, it was extremely tough. It took much scraping before he was completely satisfied with the fingernail sized piece, and how sharp it had now become. So, he thought to himself obsessively, it was time to begin his second stage of his plan.

As the hours continued to tick by in Azkaban, Garcia began to slowly cut his hair… Snip… Snip… Snip…

Far from Earth, in the desolate Limbo universe, Smisharak remained on his rock, continually evolving… Choosing to ignore his incredibly luscious female body, and the searing acidic rain from above, he kept his eyes closed, cut off from the outside in a world of ever changing thought… His new human mind was so incredible, and so complex, that each and every time he thought he'd exhausted it's potential, more and more avenues remained unexplored inside his head.

It almost felt as though he were walking a maze of sorts as he continued to think, realizing the true potential of humans as a species, even if they were unaware of it themselves. Magic and Mathematics, two of the most fundamental forces of nature, seemed inexplicably interlinked as his mind excelled past the mundane physical environment around himself, and progressed into a metaphysical world that traversed the entire galaxy. His thoughts stretched forwards like creeping tendrils, attempting to comprehend the incomprehensible… The very meaning of the universe itself! He was indeed a cerebral powerhouse.

As the capacity of his mind grew, so did his knowledge of the human psyche and their physical bodies. Though being inherently fragile, there were so many ways in which a person could die, ranging from rabid diseases, through to sheer physical exertion that could tear them apart at the seams. He mused at why he chose to think of these things when he was advancing mentally on a level no one could consider, but the reason continued to allude him. The sad truth, of which he was unaware, was that despite the change that had occurred in his mind, nothing could alter the hideously poisoned core that resided within him, like a fruit that was beautiful on the outside, yet rotten to the core.

He was still a hybrid Dementor… and the lust for the most depraved and creped of acts still lingered inside. As did his hunger for Essence, and for Harry Potter…

A foreign gust of hot air suddenly disturbed his deep thinking, and his mind quickly returned to the physical world in a flash of color. Opening his eyes slowly, he squinted as bright lights shone down from the sky, blinding him. The shrieking sound of magic and technology wailed from high above…

With his lochs of vibrant red hair being blown backwards and askew, he shielded his eyes from the intense illumination with a free hand, as he slowly got to his feet on the lonely rock… For moments the lights continued to shine on him, hot air boiling the fabricated skin of his face, before in an instant the light disappeared, and he could see the intrusion to actually be a large ship of old design, with it's engines blasting blue jets of superheated air downwards to the ground. As the ship turned broadside with a pivot of it's engines, Smisharak could see rows of effective projectile weapons lining it's hull, swiveling in different directions as though they had a mind of their own. Smisharak didn't move an inch, as the mechanical titan hovered menacingly above, seemingly scanning him for whatever purpose. He recognized this type of vessel… it belonged to Telsacom.

As he stared towards the ship with seeming bewilderment, a column of light shone down from it onto a small patch of ground directly in front of him, where suddenly, a tall holographic image of a figure appeared before him. Smisharak turned his attention to it without showing any hint of surprise…

The hologram flickered there in front of him as he stared, it was a man he was sure. Dressed in a regal outfit of silks and precious stones, a voluminous hood shrouded the man's face in darkness, where nothing but a set of sharp teeth and glowing yellow eyes were exposed for him to see. He felt certain it was Voldemort, and he briefly wondered what laid beneath that large hood, for he himself had never seen his master take it off… ever.

Dropping swiftly to one knee, he bowed his head in respect to the Dark Lord, who returned a familiar hand gesture of acknowledgement.

'You may rise Smisharak…' Voldemort hissed to him in a subtle tone, which seemed strangely loud compared to the awful wailing of the ship's engines.

He did as commanded, obediently returning to his feet to look his master in the eyes.

'Again you come before me my lord,' Smisharak spoke in a formal tone, 'How may I serve you this day?'

Though Voldemort didn't react in any noticeable way, the manner in which he suddenly fell silent at Smisharak's words were deeply ominous and hinted of odd curiosity.

'My young servant…?' Voldemort asked imperiously, 'You have changed, correct?'

'Changed my lord?' Smisharak replied curiously, trying to understand his master's query.

'Yes, your language is different. It is more complex than I recall. How can this be?'

Smisharak hadn't talked to anyone since he was resigned to Limbo in wait for Voldemort, so it was understandable that he had no idea of his latent linguistic talents. The exploration of his mind had done much more than he had previously expected, and he knew for a fact that he held far more knowledge then his master would choose to believe.

'I am learning my lord… always learning.'

One of Voldemort's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the comment, but he didn't seem too perturbed by it.

'Learning are you…? Hmm… how interesting.' And he continued to stare at him, as if trying to detect any hint of a lie but being unable to uncover one. Smisharak had learned early to manipulate his face so as not to show any hint of emotion or deception.

'And how would I be of service to you?' he asked in a prompting manner, the hologram continuing to flicker. Voldemort looked nearly through him for a moment, before he crossed his arms together, clawed and scaly hands showing briefly from beneath his robe cufflinks.

'The promised time is at hand Smisharak, Earth's capital is surrounded, and panic has begun. You can consider your task to begin as of this moment. My ship is currently on route to Earth as we speak, and Telsacom is backing me. The remainder of the details need not concern you, but all conditions have been met for your brethren to wreak havoc.'

'You have started war then my lord?' Smisharak asked in interest, not noticing his form was still naked.

'I've started nothing!' Voldemort snapped back, his eyes glowing violently, 'I am merely continuing what had already begun many years ago. The war had never truly ended at all… My plan has unfolded to my desires. With London covered on nearly all sides, the city is being evacuated as of this moment. The shield that the senate holds together is on the verge of collapse and the civilians are running blind with panic. You may inform your brothers and sisters that their command of the army may commence at their discretion.'

'And of the slaughter that would follow this order my lord?'

'People without a purpose in life deserve nothing less than annihilation. And since these people are of no concern to me, they therefore have no purpose, no right to live. If your brethren seek to suck the souls from the people in London, it will be of little consequence to me. I would relish the bloodshed, as should you. Just see to it they clear the city in preparation for orbital bombardment.'

Smisharak bowed his feminine head slightly in respect.

'Yes my lord, of course… And what of Potter?'

Voldemort silenced for a moment, flexing his gnarled fingers as he considered Smisharak's question.

'He has remained an insult to my existence for too many years now. You may use any means you deem necessary to see him dead. My stratagems can ill afford to suffer his meddling again.'

Smisharak bowed again, more deeply this time.

'Yes my lord, I will see to it personally.'

'Smisharak!' Voldemort hissed loudly at him, receiving a meek stare from the hybrid, 'I expect results from you this time, not as you did with Garcia. Do not disappoint me again…'

And at that the hologram winked from sight, the ship that hovered above, suddenly being consumed in a bright purple light, before it disappeared, a port key taking it to join thousands of other identical ships in the material universe.

Voldemort was most definitely declaring war upon Earth… or was it on the muggles? Smisharak could not possibly be sure of his masters motives, or why he seemed so intent on getting into the department of mysteries after nearly twenty years. Such answers he could not understand or uncover, but his mind was searching constantly, still working even now to find an answer.

But regardless of this, his long awaited signal had come, and Smisharak's own purpose had not dimmed at all. His thoughts turned once more to Potter, and the Essence that he held within. Immediately his mouth began to water at the thought of so much raw power in the palm of his hands, and he could not fathom just what kind of effect it would have on his ever-growing mind. In a sense he had now gained a second purpose, as not only would Potter provide an incredible feast, he would also be the means by which he would extend the limits of his new human mind. Yes, that would be it. Potter was merely a tool was his own evolution. And he would discover just what it meant… to become a god!

But Potter was the first issue that had to be dealt with, and for a change Smisharak put his mental pursuits behind him. It was time he put his new female form to good use, or rather, the use it had originally been intended. Potter's wife would have to be silenced somehow… as would his daughter, if he was to truly to infiltrate Potter's family undetected. But already methods were coming to his highly advanced mind, which he intended to put into practice at once.

With a mental thought, elegant silk clothes suddenly appeared from nowhere and wrapped around his female body. And after taking one last look at the desolate Limbo world that had served him as a home, he consumed himself in a flash of purple light, before he disappeared via port key to the material universe, and the feast of Essence that awaited.

The Prodigen would have no clue as to the horror that was coming for him…

The next day couldn't have come more quickly as Harry began to stir in the early morning sunlight, which shone like a beacon through the bedroom's stained glass windows. A profound sense of well being had overcome him, as he shifted his blankets aside, and set his two feet on a furry rug below. Taking the opportunity, he stretched his limbs one after another, working himself through a range of exercises as the sunlight from behind sent calming waves of warmth throughout his body. He couldn't quite describe just how well he had slept that night, which felt as though he had worked himself ragged and collapsed… And nor could he remember the wonderful dream he had had as well, before he looked behind to his wife, who laid face down sleeping peacefully, the blankets only partially covering her naked figure beneath.

Harry blushed as he remembered just what his dream had been all about, and he sat upon the bed, gently stroking Ginny's red hair with his right hand. The maiden stirred, and slowly opened her eyes to take in her wearied husband. Smiling, she took Harry's hand and kissed it, before wistfully staring at him with her two deep brown eyes.

'Good morning Ginny.' Harry whispered in a sultry tone to his wife, who began to stretch her arms elegantly, 'You slept well I hope?'

Ginny giggled lightly as she pushed herself up from the bed with her left hand, breasts bared as she faced her husband. Slowly she ran a finger down the skin of his chest, a smile stretching across her face.

'Of course I did Harry, how could I not given last night's rather… impressive performance?'

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm again, and Ginny giggled once more. Picking up Harry's discarded robes, she used her wand to magically repair the tears that riddled them, adding a pleasant smell just for good measure before she threw them to him.

'Thankyou.' Harry said gratefully to her, as he pulled the robe's neckline over his head. Ginny just gave him a friendly look as she pushed the blankets away from herself and got up, walking freely to the other side of the room where she'd hastily thrown her gown from the previous night. Harry just stared at her body with lust, as she looked over her shoulder at him before donning the outfit.

'Tisk tisk Harry, it's rude to stare you know? Didn't anyone ever tell you that before?'

Harry put on an expression of mock shame, bowing his head as he smiled. Ginny still had a spark of humor about herself it seemed, Harry did feel sorry that he'd missed so much of it.

Pulling a set of blue robes over her shoulders, Ginny applied a quick layer of makeup to her face with a wand flick, before turning her attention to the windows opposite her, which she opened to allow the sweet morning breeze to waft in. She breathed deep of the calming air, which was cool to the touch and moist from the late night dew. Harry walked over to her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders, massaging them. The feeling was so invigorating.

'How long has it been Harry?' Ginny asked him as she looked out to the forest beyond the castle. 'How long has it been since we last enjoyed simple moments like this?'

'Twenty years, ten months and three days to this morning.' He replied matter of factly as he ran his hands gently over her shoulders, 'Far too long. That's for sure.'

Ginny sighed in delight, relishing her husband's touch as her eyes meandered across lush trees and grassy meadows. The world seemed so compact and beautiful from this window, and she prayed inside that perhaps one day it would be like this again, free from the tyranny of those who would undo all of nature's goodness… And as though sensing her thoughts, Harry comforted her gently, resting his head against hers. Sadly however, Harry knew the world as a far more sinister place, where dreams were crushed and families were destroyed. But Ginny could never possibly know…

All of a sudden a burly young owl landed on the window sill next to them, hooting happily as it gestured to the small note tied up against it's leg.

'Hello there little fellow,' Ginny began to the owl, stroking it's feathers with a finger, 'What have you here then?'

Gently pulling the note free, Ginny unrolled the parchment, her eyes slowly gazing up and down it in curious interest. After a moment, she grunted in dissatisfaction before passing it behind to Harry's outstretched hand, her brow furrowed.

'Any ideas?' she asked him, turning her gaze to Harry, who had motioned his eyes slowly across the parchment. 'It's clearly intended for you…'

Harry nodded slowly in agreement, still entranced by the message.

'Yes… I can see that.' He replied in earnest, 'That's what it says… but I still don't understand the purpose behind it.'

With his eyes trailing up and down the parchment, Harry read the first and only line of text that had been written upon it in hastily scribbled ink.

"To Harry James Potter…" and that was all. Nothing else was written on the parchment, and out of curiosity Harry turned it over in hands just in case he'd missed something written on the back, only to be annoyed when he found nothing to be written on the other side.

'Must be someone's idea of a joke.' Harry impressed as he tightened his grip on the message, 'If it's a student at this school then I'll find out quick smart who's behind it.'

'Really?' Ginny asked in a strange tone, 'Why would anyone want to send you blank parchment, even as a joke?'

Harry looked down at the parchment for a moment, before something strange happened… Text suddenly appeared in scrawled writing, letters forming themselves from nothingness in front of Harry's eyes…

"We are still waiting Prodigen… Come to us!"

'Hmm… good question… I'll keep a hold on it for a while. Maybe I'll learn more about it later. Give the owl something for his trouble Ginny, I doubt he wants to stick around any longer.'

Taking from her robes a small cracker, Ginny passed the owl a small morsel of the treat, and it hooted happily after eating it, before it flew away out the open window.

Pocketing the piece of parchment, Harry straightened out the folds in his robes, before heading towards the door, deciding not to tell Ginny of what he'd read.

'Where are you going?' Ginny asked, looking rather concerned, a small frown overcoming her beautiful face… Harry stopped in his tracks for a moment as he stared back towards her from the room's entrance.

'I was only going for a morning stroll dear, nothing drastic…' He replied honestly, and Ginny almost seemed to deflate as she let out held breath, a small tear coming to her eye. Harry couldn't seem to understand her sudden change of behaviour in the slightest.

'Don't worry!' he added as a hasty afterthought, trying the reassure her, 'I'll be back later to see you and Genevieve, I promise.'

And at that he opened the wooden door and walked out into the chilly corridor, his robes swishing behind him.

As the door closed however, Ginny turned back around to the open window. Whilst ignoring the cool breeze on her face, she dropped to her knees, clutching at her heart. Tears rolled slowly down her face in pain and sadness as she stared at the stone floor below, and she felt suddenly drained of energy as despair overcame her from nowhere.

'I hope so…' she whispered quietly, and she pulled her robes tightly about herself as the morning air suddenly felt so incredibly cold. Or was it her own change in mood that had caused that?

Somehow she could sense Harry walking down the corridor away from her, and she felt hollow at the thought, even though she knew it plain stupidity to think in such a manner. She simply couldn't understand why Harry wouldn't stay with her, even if only for a few days. Always there was some kind of errand that needed to be attended to, or someone that was so desperate to see him that Harry no longer seemed to have time for her, or for his daughter. It was troubling to her when she began to think along these lines, and she wondered briefly about Genevieve, who was still sleeping in the room next door.

Couldn't Harry see the folly of what he was doing? To let down his family even after so long having not seen him? It almost seemed to defy belief, but the evidence was there for all to see… Maybe his hardened life had forced upon him a sense of independence that cut off his need for a family, or perhaps he had grown so used to being alone that the idea of a woman who loved him was an absolutely foreign concept to him… But either way, it did nothing to heal her own mind, which she felt was growing tired and weary after all these years without her husband.

How she longed for him, just so that he might be there, even if only to comfort her saddened moments came about. And for sure there were no shortage of those, as she had diagnosed a more sinister demon from within her own mind… Depression.

Summing up, she felt flat, constantly tired, and of little mind to do ANYTHING herself. Self created voices echoed jeeringly inside her head on a never-ending loop, repeating messages that emphasized her own worthlessness to the world, and on more than one occasion she wondered whether Harry was in fact losing interest in her as a woman, for him to act as he did, and that perhaps he may never notice if she mysteriously disappeared one day, or died…

Again she berated herself for thinking so foolishly, and again she suffered another guilt trip at the gullibility of her own mind. Yet the voices just wouldn't stop, and she felt certain she was losing her mind, teetering on the edge on insanity… Some days were worse than others she realized, as she thought hard on the depression which had struck her down like stone, the weight that never seemed to leave her. She felt as though everyone was against her at times, and her only escape was to lock herself away in her bedroom, free from the hurtful glares of people who knew nothing of how she felt. But this was a double edged sword, as her escape soon felt like a prison to her, and she became so incredibly lonely that her own condition worsened at an exponential rate. She admitted too, that Genevieve knew nothing of her pain, and on numerous occasions the young girl had caught her mother crying for apparently no reason, only to ask her why and get no real explanation whatsoever.

In a way, Ginny was relieved that her only daughter wasn't suffering as she was, as she knew herself that she could never have possibly imagined feeling this way when she had first married the man of her dreams… when she was innocent, and Harry was the handsome prince who had swept her off her feet. Yet all that seemed an age ago now, for she was now middle aged, far out of the prime of her life. She only wished that Harry would be here with her… and for him to stay. The loneliness… the voices… the pain of it all… and the strain it put on her body, it was all too much.

Uncomfortably she rubbed her chest with a splayed hand, a horrible tightness closing about her heart like a vice. Again she cried, this time in physical pain, her depression was having an adverse effect on her health it seemed, and she didn't feel certain she could take much more adverse stress. Like being lost in the dark, there was no way out for her, and she mused that such a drastic action like suicide, no longer seemed so hard for her to comprehend. The pain she felt both physically and emotionally of just living each day was too much for anyone to bear, and the fact that average people were not depressed and would mostly wonder why she would be upset at all, really drove home a further sense of isolation that did nothing but hurt her still.

Suicide? Yes… she COULD do it. No one would care if she did or not anyway. Sure, Harry said he loved her, yet nothing but a grey fog seemed to obscure the feelings she knew she shared with him, and for a time it almost seemed meaningless. The idea of taking her own life seemed to hold a temptation of it's own, as though it had a hold over her. It was taking all of her energy just to steer herself away from dealing death to herself, as such an act was very, VERY permanent. But at the same time, she wondered whether the killing curse could be cast upon one's self… She involuntarily shuddered, her mind was too muddled up to think clearly anymore…

Turning about, she walked lethargically to a tall mirror at the other end of the bedroom, and stared wearily at it… On the outside she was a beautiful woman, with smooth skin, a perfect figure, and a luscious face that any sane man would bury his own mother just to look at. Her curves showed sensually through her gown that loosely covered her body which she vaguely admired as her own reflection stared back at her, mimicking her forlorn facial expression. But what use was it all when the inside no longer held any beauty about it? For so long now she had felt things that only people at war could understand, and she had wanted to die out of sadness alone, as to live was to suffer gravely. Yet still she existed, like a rose losing it's radiance after shining in bloom for so long.

She ran a long finger slowly down her face, for no other reason than to distract herself momentarily. Her reflection followed suit, and Ginny watched herself disinterestedly for a while as the scantily clad woman before her copied her actions to the letter.

'Why have I been cursed to feel this way?' she talked to the reflection, not expecting any kind of response, 'Am I meant to feel so cold…?'

The reflection did not respond, but instead returned the same faked smile that Ginny held about herself. Briefly she wondered whether this was this image that people always saw whenever she was in public. How horrible it was…

'I must truly be mad now…' Ginny chided herself for no good reason, 'Talking to a bloody mirror like this. What's the point?' she sighed…

Of a sudden, she heard a knock on the wooden door to her right, and not bothering to turn or get better clothed, she mumbled; 'Enter…'

Dark haired Genevieve cautiously opened the door ajar, sticking her head through enough to take in her mother who stood silently staring at the mirror, still apparently in her bed clothes. A large tray of assorted foods was being carried in her hands, toast, cereal, eggs and juice. Ginny only gave a sidling look, her weariness quite apparent to the young first year student.

'Just bringing you some breakfast mum.' She said in a reserved tone, staring curiously at her upset mother, 'I saw dad wandering about the castle, so I figured you'd be awake… err…'

She stopped, looking at how unconcerned her mother seemed to be at this point in time.

'I'm sorry mum, I've caught you at a bad time… I'll just… leave this tray here, shall I?' and she gently placed the wooden tray on the floor as Ginny just passed her a drained and somewhat frustrated look.

'I'll come back later ok?' Genevieve finished, and she closed the door gently behind herself as she left.

Ginny looked down at the abandoned tray of food without any intention of eating it. Though it smelt absolutely wonderful, she couldn't summon the effort to take so much as a bite of it, despite the fact her body craved it immensely. She was losing weight fast… much too fast for her liking. But she didn't care.

Forcing herself from where she was standing, Ginny reluctantly moved towards the food filled tray, her body aching from inactivity. She supposed she might as well eat SOMETHING at least. She wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't…

Picking the tray up from the floor, she sat herself down on the bed with it, before she slowly took a bite from one of the strangely cooked eggs. It held an odd taste, which was made even more unusual when she tried to wash it down with orange juice. Mixing weirdly inside her mouth, she struggled to force it down her own throat… Genevieve must have tried her hand at muggle cooking, her skills left much to be desired.

Pushing the tray to one side, she got up again and returned to the mirror, now noticing dark circles that had formed beneath her eyes. She looked a wreck, or at least a beautiful wreck, and always she was tired, wanting sleep. Staring deep into the tired eyes of her reflection, she muttered quietly to herself.

'You don't know how I feel do you?' and she turned about slowly to leave the room.

'Oh I wouldn't say that.' a feminine voice replied suddenly, and Ginny turned quickly in surprise to see her reflection, which wore upon it a rosebud smile that was most unlike her own face.

'Oh my…!' Ginny stuttered for a moment, placing a hand over her erratically beating heart, 'You're… you're…'

But Ginny didn't have time to comprehend just what was happening. A strong hand suddenly shot out at her from within the mirror's surface, gripping her tightly by her exposed throat. She tried to shout… she tried to scream even. But her pleas of mercy would not be heard, even as her reflection magically stepped out of the mirror, laughing…

Genevieve walked gracefully along the stone walkways towards her mother's bedroom in the visitor's quarters, her robes gliding across the floor behind her… In her short stay in the castle, she'd resided herself away from the traditional Gryffindor common room in favor of a more secluded place, where she could cloister herself without being disturbed. It was a pleasant change from the relatively small accommodation of the girl's dormitories, as her new room was a spacious and well to do place, with pretty silk curtains and luxurious crimson bed sheets. This part of the castle faced a different direction as well, which allowed for a sweeter smelling air to waft in through the windows of a morning. She only wished she could share the novel experience with her closest school friends, of whom to her own knowledge, had been evacuated by their parents, like so many others she'd known. Of course she couldn't quite understand where on Earth they would go that would be safer than Hogwarts, but they were entitled to their own decision at the least.

In her left hand she carried a warm, wet towel, which she intended to give to her mother. Before she had originally given her breakfast, she'd heard her mother sobbing quietly. She felt sad herself at this, as it wasn't the first time Ginny had been this way, and there was nothing she could possibly do about it. It was all bottled up in her mind. At least a wet towel might help her drown whatever was holding her down, a good rub down with one could ease so many unseen stresses in one's life. In her mum's case, that would be a great gift indeed…

Coming to the large wooden door, she gave a hesitant knock, hoping that the occupant wouldn't be in quite such a bad mood as earlier. To her surprise though, there wasn't a reply, and she knocked again, this time a little harder. She heard a mingled cough on the other side, before a feminine voice called to her…

'Yes, come in.'

Genevieve slowly opened the door to her mother's bedroom, poking her head in far enough to see Ginny sitting down by the open window, absorbing the morning sunlight.

'I brought you a towel mum.' She said, closing the door behind her with a thud. 'I thought you might like it. Make you feel better, right?'

Ginny turned to face her, eyes looking down at the warm towel with interest. She got up from her seat and casually walked over to her, hips moving in a strangely predatory fashion that Genevieve hadn't seen before. She was calm, in an eternal way, as though untouched by angst or sorrow. Genevieve wondered briefly whether it had been worth it getting the towel for her in the first place, her mother looked unbelievably refreshed, almost cured of her sadness. Could it have been from her own self made breakfast?

Looking around, Genevieve noticed that the room looked a shambles. Pieces of furniture laid upturned, as if someone had run a marathon of sorts. Nothing looked tidy, as she knew her mother usually liked it. Strangely, the mirror was no where to be seen…

'Thank you.' Ginny spoke smoothly, taking the towel with a gentle pair of hands, 'This should do well.'

Genevieve smiled, but took a sidling look about the room, observing the total disarray of it everything. Ginny seemed to notice her sudden shift in attentiveness.

'Is everything alright child?' she asked silkily, getting a curious stare from the first year student. Genevieve gestured about the room to the haphazard manner it was organized in, and Ginny gave a blank stare in return, waving her arm in a dismissive manner.

'I just took one look around and I hated everything. The room needs some new decorum in any case.'

'Oh, how impulsive you…' Genevieve replied, knowing full well that it wasn't in her mother's nature to be impulsive, especially when it came to matters of furniture. 'Are you sure that's wise when the furniture isn't even yours? All this belongs to Hogwarts, you know this.'

'Hmm, I fear you're correct… never mind, maybe I'll fix the place up later.'

And Ginny turned from her, returning to her seat by the open window, rocking on the chair. Odd behaviour for her indeed.

'Mum?' Genevieve asked on a whim, taking a hesitant step forward, 'I'm worried about you, you haven't been the same since dad came back. You're always sad, crying all the time… What's happening to you?'

Ginny looked at her with two unnaturally haunting eyes, they almost seemed to burn straight through her. But then they became softer, more caring in the way they looked, and she sighed. Gently she reached over to Genevieve, and touched her face with cold hands.

'Come now my daughter, you shouldn't worry for me. I'll be fine, really! I've just been having a rather… difficult time, as of late. I'm always thinking about your father…' her gaze sidled away, she became more fervent, 'Oh yes, I think about him all the time… every moment, of every day…'

Almost immediately she softened once more, noticing the unusual glare Genevieve was giving to her.

'But, yes, don't you worry about me. I've survived worse, really. I'll get through this yet. Clear your head of anxiety and be at peace… come.'

Ginny opened her arms wide, embracing Genevieve in a hug. She cuddled up to her mother, pulling herself close against her mother's silk dress. Ginny looked down upon her lovingly, stroking her lochs of reddish, black hair.

'Hush child…' she whispered, before bringing her face up to look into her eyes. With a finger she wiped away a stray strand of hair, before she motioned a hand over her face.

Genevieve felt blissful, and loved. It was so warm being next to her mother… but then, there was something else as well, a feeling she almost couldn't describe. A churning sensation swelled about in her head, whilst Ginny's hand hovered above it. It was soon followed by a chill that flowed down her spine from head to toe, before each breath became forced and rasping as her concentration began to wander… Ginny continued to talk softly to her, not moving her hand from it's position in the slightest.

'What? What are you doing…?' Genevieve stuttered as her vision began to go blurry, her breaths feeling sharp like needles. Ginny didn't explain, her eyes widening as the blood began to leave Genevieve's face.

'There there child, it will all be over soon… hush…'

Genevieve began to panic, and tried to move free of her mother. But her strength was fading and Ginny refused to let her leave, applying pressure to her grip.

'Please mum!' Genevieve begged, vainly trying to get free, 'Let me go… let me go… let me… let me… le…'

The door suddenly opened then, and Harry walked in, discarding a cloak on a nearby rack.

'See dear, I told you I'd be back soon…' he looked to Ginny, who's hand was positioned over Genevieve's face, drawing some kind of wispy white smoke out of her face. Genevieve's skin was white, and her eyes had rolled back into her head as her mouth dropped open. Harry's eyes widened in horror.

'What in Merlin's name are you doing!' Harry cried, and Ginny looked up to him from where she was sitting. In an instant Harry could tell there was something incredibly wrong, as an oily layer of black suddenly consumed Ginny's eyes. A powerful surge of Essence magic grew inside of her, creating a blinding light which only Harry could see.

But Ginny was not a Prodigen, of that he knew for sure. There was only one possible explanation for all this… this was not Ginny, it was an imposter!

The imposter Ginny immediately rose to her feet, throwing Genevieve's limp form against a wall with a thud. Her eyes locked onto him, teeth grinding from side to side as the Essence light grew ever more intense within her. She was preparing to do something…

'Harry Potter…' the imposter said aloud, a wicked smile stretching across her pretty face, 'At last we meet…' and she raised her hand, a white ball of energy forming between her fingers.

Harry didn't have much time to react before an enormous blast of Essence was flying dangerously towards him. He could do nothing more than raise as strong a shield as possible as the Essence burned swiftly through the air. It hit a glancing blow, throwing Harry painfully across the room as the majority to the blast ricocheted up into the ceiling, pounding it's way through several levels of stone with a terrifying crash.

The imposter snarled at him, as Harry slowly regained his bearings from a sprawled position. A long, bloody gauge had been taken from his chest despite the shield he'd raised, agonizingly painful as blood seeped onto the stone floor below. He could barely overcome his shock at being hit so hard by an Essence blast, as not even Grindelwald had been that powerful during their dual… Hastily he tried to heal himself up, but could only manage a little before he felt his energy being sucked from him by the blast's residue, his own body going limp.

Soft footsteps sounded before him, as the fake Ginny walked forwards, kneeling over his helpless form, licking her lips.

'So much power you have Prodigen…' she started, black eyes looking inside him for something he was yet to recognize, 'I've been waiting an eternity for this…'

And like with Genevieve, she moved her hand slowly over Harry's face, before white smoke seemed to be sucked from inside his body… Harry jerked from side to side as the unearthly process grinded him down, feeling as though his insides were being torn apart, as if his very soul was being ripped in two.

'Now now Mr Potter,' the imposter spoke calmly, 'Struggling will only embitter your taste, I plan to savor your power forever!'

Harry could vaguely feel the blood rushing from his face as his breath began to rasp, each intake of air reminiscent of icicles inside his windpipe. He started to choke silently.

'That's it Prodigen… it will all be over soon…'

But just before the imposter could finish her work, her head darted upwards, as if sensing something like an animal. Faint footsteps could be heard from outside the room, which grew louder and louder. The door suddenly blew wide open with a crash, and Dumbledore stood their with his wand at the ready, the smaller, almost insignificant form of professor Trelawny present at his side brandishing her own wand.

With it's eyes gliding over Dumbledore as if he were of no concern whatsoever, the imposters stare landed on Trelawny, and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates in recognition. Trelawny stared back with an almost knowing look, baring her teeth in as aggressive a stance as she could muster.

Snarling, the imposter released the hold she had upon Harry, dropping him to the floor like a limp towel as she shot to her feet. And in an instant, a bright purple light consumed her… and she was gone…

Dumbledore surveyed the room in an instant, before he dropped to his knees over Harry's weak and battered form. He muttered a spell, and Harry's eyes flickered open groggily.

'Harry. HARRY! Are you alright!' Dumbledore asked insistently, checking his life signs. Harry gave a dull shake of his head as he threatened to fall back into delirium, only his horror at the experience keeping him conscious.

'Yes… yes I think so.' He replied in earnest, though he felt probably a lot worse than he looked. Desperately he tried to force himself to his feet, but Dumbledore held him down effortlessly with a hand, prompting him to save his energy.

'There will plenty of time to move once we've had a good look at you. But for now, tell me what that thing was.'

Harry strained his mind to remember just what had happened, his mind going around in circles over his bad experience. But it seemed almost clear anyway as to what it was.

'It was a hybrid sir… A hybrid Dementor. It couldn't have been anything else…'

'A hybrid? HERE!' Dumbledore pressed him, 'Are you absolutely sure!'

'Positive…' Harry muttered.

Across the room there was some commotion, and Trelawny stuck her head up from a collapsed heap laying on the floor.

'Professor!' she called, 'You should see this… It's Potter's daughter! Look, she's going cold, she needs treatment immediately.'

Dumbledore moved himself across the room until he was over Genevieve, who's entire body had gone white. Mist like breaths came erratically from her mouth as she laid unconscious.

'Professor Trelawny, see to it Madam Pomfrey helps Genevieve as best she can. She might not have much time.'

Nodding respectfully, Trelawny levitated the child's limp body and walked out the door with it floating behind, leaving Dumbledore and Harry alone.

'This is dangerous Harry.' Dumbledore began in a grave tone, looking concerned, 'I refuse to believe that you would have been taken so off guard by this creature's attack. How did it defeat you so?'

Harry explained as best he could the amount of power that had been wielded inside the room, even gesturing to the enormous gaping hole in the ceiling above them. Dumbledore listened intently as he talked on, though he looked more and more anxious as a disturbing picture was painted.

'You said it was capable of Essence? How can this be Harry?'

Harry shrugged his shoulders questionably.

'I don't know professor… I just don't know. But it's power was more Essence than I could ever be able to handle…'

Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought for a moment, and came to some odd conclusion inside his head.

'We'll discuss this matter later Harry. For now you need rest, you have been through a terrible ordeal I must say.'

And he bent down in an attempt to help Harry to his feet, only for Harry to grab him by the scruff of his robes.

'Not yet Professor, I have one last thing that I need to know. Where is my wife professor Dumbledore…?'

Albus looked to him in surprise before realizing how preoccupied he'd become with the issue of the hybrid Dementor. He hadn't even thought about her!

'Harry…?' he began in hesitation, trying to create an excuse. But Harry grinded his teeth together.

'Don't play games with me professor! Where is my wife…? WHERE'S GINNY!' 


	18. A Thirst for Revenge

Chapter 18 – A Thirst for Revenge

Voldemort looked out through wide panoramic windows onboard one of his commandeered ships, which flew slowly through space in formation with his entire combined fleet of Telsacom warships… Since bringing the business to his side of thinking, the number of ships he possessed had first doubled, and then tripled in quick succession, as vessels thought long gone suddenly appeared at the summons of Telsacom's hive computers.

Looking over the ageing, but still formidable fleet, Voldemort smiled a sharp toothed grin as the trump card of his force suddenly appeared from hyper warp in it's center, a giant purple light consuming it whole. Khorah… the only battleship of it's type, came to a steady stop amidst it's smaller counterparts, absolutely dwarfing the Telsacom ships that promptly moved out of it's way.

Casually Voldemort took a glance out into the vastness of space, noting how the large planetary body of Saturn cast a shadow across his ships, which had all taken a hyper warp jump here without the aid of the Celestial gate. He felt surprised he had come to such a convenient location, given the poorly planned jump was random at best since the computers on the Celestial gate guided the navigation systems of all jumper craft in this galaxy. However, though the lack of guidance meant his exit trajectory was random, it also meant that no one could track his movements. And that, meant a lot to his plans…

Sensing an adverse coldness nearby, Voldemort turned to see one of his private bodyguard, a hybrid Dementor, which glided sinuously towards him. It was Darenkhare, sister to his other loyal servant Smisharak. Having not taken a human form, Darenkhare remained in her black and misty appearance, oozing pain and agony wherever she went, just like the race that had sired her. Motioning a clawed hand towards her, Voldemort turned from his window and walked slowly across the metal clad room towards a large crystal that laid motionless on the floor. Inside was a dark shape, and Voldemort wiped a scaled hand across the crystal's wet surface, to see a dead man with golden hair trapped within.

Darenkhare moved sinuously by the Dark Lord's side, dull lights flickering inside her misty appearance as she attempted to comprehend what she was seeing inside the magically created crystal. Voldemort stood by seeming strangely mute, until he turned his glowing gaze upon her.

'You summoned me master?' Darenkhare spoke in tortured tones, twisting and turning in the air as Voldemort gazed through her translucent form.

'Darenkhare, tell me what you see here…' he said, nodding towards her as he gestured with a free hand.

Looking into the clear crystalline form, Darenkhare studied the corpse with vague disinterest.

'The flesh is of no use, it has no soul…'

Voldemort chuckled at this, scraping his claws across the icy surface of the crystal.

'True, it has no soul. You took it afterall, remember?'

Darenkhare's misty form lighted up dismally from the inside as she thought on what he'd said. After a moment she replied…  
'Yes… I remember… I took it before the human died, as you had instructed me prior to his death.'

Voldemort nodded as his claws left deep scratch marks in the crystal. He'd read Garcia's mind before he attacked Lucius, and even knew what the old man was about to do before he stepped into his chambers. People were so easy to read… Deep within the crystal he could see the large, bloody gash where Garcia had sliced Lucius's throat wide open. Lucius had been informed too that Garcia was willing to do something like this, and as loyal a subject he was, he agreed he would let the Viridian kill him. Only out of loyalty could someone possibly agree to do something like that, having complete, unyielding faith in his master. And this fact made Lucius the most loyal of his servants… whom had been living of course…

'And you can relinquish that soul?' he asked the hybrid curiously, as he stared at the frozen man. Darenkhare remained silent once more for a moment.

'Yes…' she replied simply, apparently not seeing where this was all heading. 'Why do you wish to know this information master?'

Voldemort walked around the giant crystal form, analyzing it for a second before he waved his hand, the crystal disintegrating into tiny shards that left the body exposed to the air. The terrible smell of rotting flesh began to permeate about them as the corpse started to decompose…

Choosing not to notice the unpleasantness of the body, Darenkhare began to realize just what the Dark Lord intended with the dead man.

'Master, the cells of the human's body are badly damaged, do you believe you can regenerate them?'

Voldemort glided his hand over Lucius's body, before an invisible force levitated it into the air.

'Yes… But first, give me his soul, it will be essential.'

Voldemort stretched out one of his gnarled fingers to the hybrid, who stared at it reluctantly for a moment before a small bright light shone within her. A small blue sphere suddenly separated itself from Darenkhare's body and floated at will into Voldemort's hand, his fingers clenching tightly so as not to let it escape.

With Lucius's soul in one hand, Voldemort waved his other over the corpse. A squelching sound reverberated about the room, and Lucius's throat quickly began to repair itself over. Flesh that had been torn apart, magically seemed to pull themselves back into their rightful place, blood seeping into the body once more as Voldemort poured weaves of healing Essence into it…

Lucius laid taught on the floor, then started to have spasms and wretches as the ancient magic spread around his entire body. Inside, his internal organs were being repaired, his heart beating once more against the tide of rot that had overcome it. Blood began to flow, filling his arteries, the colour returning to his skin. And by healings end, little could be said that Lucius was actually dead, if not truly asleep…

Flexing a finger, the body's mouth opened slowly, and Voldemort released the blue soul into it, which floated down into it's fleshy abyss… For a moment afterwards there was no sound, before suddenly, a gasp was heard, and Lucius's eyes popped open as wide as dinner plates as he literally returned from the dead.

Coughing wretchedly as he gasped for air, the man wrapped his hands about his throat, and seemed surprise to have felt nothing their but perfect, untouched skin. Hurriedly he stared around himself, before his eyes landed on Voldemort, and he dropped his gaze to the ground immediately in respect.

'My… Lord…' he spoke in a rasp, trying to get to his knees to bow properly. Voldemort waved him to silence and told him of how he'd been cheated death so as to serve him once more at the turn of the tide, for the war was merely a day away. Lucius listened intently as his own senses began to return to him, and it wasn't long before he was able to walk once more, and talk with relative ease.

'I thank you my lord…' Lucius spoke reverently to his master, who watched on as the golden haired man dried layers of moisture from his skin, 'I am unworthy to receive such a wondrous gift from your person.'

'I think differently my servant,' Voldemort spoke appraisingly, scoring the man's skin with a sharp claw. Lucius didn't so much as flinch. 'You have proven yourself the most loyal of my servants Lucius, it would indeed be a shame to let go such a promising protégé…'

Lucius beamed at the praise he had received, and he looked as though he'd just been reborn into the world as he stood proudly with his chest puffed up. The Dark Lord placed a hand onto the blonde man's shoulder, and immediately after, he knew that Lucius would never become the turncoat he'd always known Garcia would become.

Walking once more to the glass window, Voldemort looked over his enormous fleet of vessels that had gathered themselves in loose formation in Saturn's shadow. Thousands of ships were here, all in various shapes and sizes… and all destined for a far greater purpose.

From his own predictions, Garcia's Earth bound fleet numbered only a few hundred ships. But though they were far stronger and more advanced than his own, Voldemort knew that sheer numbers were on his side, and ammunition would not be able to be replicated fast enough to destroy all of his own before his battleship exited the Celestial gate to perform the task it was meant for… To blast through the Earth and down to the Ministry of magic. He was still angry for his defeat there so long ago, and realised that only true chaos would be sufficient for him to gain access to this holy abode. One door deep in the department of mysteries beckoned to him, and he felt so curious that nothing would prevent him from investigating what laid inside. Rumor had it that a power of such overwhelming potential laid within… and he wanted it!

Lucius walked over to Voldemort's side and stared out into space, marveling at the incredible display of power that had been assembled. Darenkhare sidled on by silently…

'Amazing my lord, you have done all this!' Lucius asked in awe, his gaze transfixed. In the center of the fleet, the Khorah battleship floated menacingly, the next largest ship down looking little more than the size of a grain of rice in comparison. The best part of it though, was that like all the Telsacom ships, which formed the bulk of the Dark Lord's forces, the Khorah was almost entirely automated, with advanced computer systems taking the place of a more conventional human crew. This served a dual purpose, as it firstly allowed the ship to fly at maximum efficiency, and secondly reduced the risk of traitors destroying his labour from within. Twenty years had passed by here in the material universe, and in that time he'd painstakingly built this ship from plans that had been stolen from Earth. He could little afford to have some person with a grudge perform treason inside it during his finely tuned plan.

But it wasn't entirely computerized, which he'd been sure to incorporate as a feature of it's construction. There was a human aspect needed for it, for control purposes. A human of such unbending loyalty that would be able to perform any order without question… a human of whom, was standing right behind him.

'Lucius.' Voldemort said of a sudden, and the golden haired man immediately turned his gaze back to him.

'Yes my lord!' he answered with enthusiasm, bowing respectfully even though he wasn't facing his master. Voldemort crossed his arms together tightly and tapping his long fingers against his robes.

'Pack your things… I have a job for you…'

Harry sat down silently on a wooden stool, looking over his pale daughter who laid motionless in Hogwarts' hospital wing. Her face was white and devoid of color, and her skin was bitterly cold as her remaining strength was seemingly sucked from her at a slow, yet steady pace. It was bad enough that Harry should have to sit and watch this, but what was worse was that there was nothing he could do to help her. Whatever the hybrid had done to Genevieve, it was connected with Essence in some inexplicable way. A way that he couldn't fathom even now, and he feared to intervene would do more harm than good…

On the flipside though, Harry was relieved to hear that his wife had been recovered safe and well only a few hours after the attack. Looking in a cupboard, Lupin had found her magically trapped within a full body mirror, bashing her hands against it's surface frantically in some desperate attempt to escape. Ginny had been sealed inside the mirror by the hybrid, with incredibly weak fragments of Essence. To Harry's fortune, he'd had strength enough to break the tenuous hold the magic had over his wife's prison, and Ginny was released with no harm done, even if she was a little shaken by the whole ordeal.

But it still did nothing to help his daughter's situation, as Genevieve slept unconscious on the white hospital bed… Ginny had become incredibly worried the moment she laid eyes on her daughter's sunken form, and she'd chosen to sit by the young girl's side along with her husband, no matter how long it took to see her to good health. Harry admired his wife's stubborn refusal to leave Genevieve, in case she awoke suddenly to find no one nearby. But Harry felt worried nonetheless, and feared that Ginny's devoted mothering may be of little avail against a powerful magic that even now eluded his own full understanding.

Dumbledore had done what he could following the Dementor's attack, by finding what medical people he could find to help Genevieve, regardless of whether they were muggle or wizard. But in the end no one knew of any way to help her, as the damage had been done with Essence magic, which they knew only Harry had any understanding of at all. Though Harry knew it would happen this way, it was rather ironic that the very people he hoped would cure his daughter of this sickness, were turning to him for some elusive answer. He couldn't help but become angry at this…

Placing a hand over Genevieve's forehead, Harry shuddered at just how cold she was, and he reeled back as he felt the taint of Essence that had overcome her… Dumbledore stood nearby, looking over the child's form with worry, even as Ginny sat sobbing nearby, holding the girl's hand with her own. Hoping perhaps that she might wake up… but alas, to no avail. Turning to Dumbledore with a questioning glance, the old man returned his stare with a sullen shake of his head, relaying the full sense of futility he was feeling at the situation. It didn't help Harry much, serving only to drop a terrible feeling of uselessness into the pit of his stomach.

'Ahem… Harry?' spoke professor Lupin, who entered the room quietly unannounced.

Harry turned to him for a moment, a little irate at the intrusion.

'Yes?' he answered softly, 'What is it?'

'I need to speak with you for a moment if I may, I am sorry if I'm disturbing you.'

Harry risked a quick glance to his daughter, seeing little more than shattered youth slowly being consumed by an immovable cancer he was powerless to stop. Immediately he felt remorse.

'Don't worry professor,' he answered sullenly, 'You weren't disturbing anything.'

Getting up, Harry placed a comforting hand on Ginny's shoulder, before whispering to her softly.

'Don't worry, we have a strong daughter… she will conquer this, I promise you…'

Ginny sat tensely, refusing to acknowledge him or the comfort he offered. But instead she spoke quietly to him;

'You weren't there… you weren't there to save her…'

Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise, and he pulled his hand away as if bitten… As if his mood wasn't bitter before, it was cold as ice now. Quietly he followed Lupin out the door, into the endless corridors that were now dark as a cold night settled upon the castle walls, nothing more than small slivers of moonlight permeating through ancient stained glass windows. Walking for a few minutes, he was well away from the hospital wing before Lupin finally opened his mouth and spoke.

'I'm sorry about your daughter Harry… I admit I had my feet on a cushion before I heard about her. I only wish I could've done something to help sooner, instead of comforting myself. Really, I am sorry.'

Harry walked on by his side, his eyes drifting off in another direction.

'Thank you Remus, but you're not as sorry as I am… I just wasn't there. I thought Hogwarts was safe!'

'Harry!' Lupin spoke harshly, bringing him to a stop, 'Blaming yourself may satisfy any guilt you have, but it certainly won't help Genevieve's situation one bit. Not at all.'

Harry didn't reply to what he knew was the truth, but he wanted to blame himself, after the way Ginny had scolded him.

'Listen to me Harry…' Lupin continued in a more subtle tone, 'It was not your fault… There was no way you could've known that creature would infiltrate the castle. Nor was there any way you could have helped, you barely got out alive didn't you?'

Harry frowned at this, recalling the difficulty he had in repelling the creature.

'It was so powerful…' Harry spoke in a slightly softer tone, 'If they are only Voldemort's servants, then how can I possibly hope to destroy him?'

Lupin placed a hand on Harry's back as they continued to walk through the corridors, their feet making hollow noises as they struck the stone floor beneath.

'Four times Harry.' Lupin said suddenly, drawing Harry's attention, 'You've defied Voldemort's wrath four times. Why do you think that's so?'

Harry stood puzzled for a moment, but shrugged his shoulders when he couldn't come up with an answer.

'Dunno, why is that so?'

'Because Harry,' Lupin continued, 'You were meant to. Think of the prophesy!'

'Yes, but the prophesy didn't say just which one of us would win, or even if we both lived. It's too vague, and for all I know, it might not even be me who is destined to destroy him.'

Lupin smiled.

'And what if you are the one? Wouldn't that be an encouraging thought?'

Harry continued to think as they walked. He wasn't sure whether it would be an encouraging thought or not, but it made him feel better that was for sure.

'But what about Ginny?' Harry asked then, and Lupin returned him a knowing smile.

'She's just upset Harry. And given the circumstances, I'm surprised you are this composed yourself. She knows it wasn't your fault, but she's desperate for someone to blame. Don't worry, she'll come around soon, as will your daughter, she's a strong girl you know?'

'Yeah… that's what I said.'

Lupin patted him comfortingly on the back.

'Times are hard these days Harry. London is under siege from all sides, there's no guarantee it will hold out much longer. And we even have recent reports of dark warships amassing near Saturn. Of course we've no clue as to how accurate these reports are, but what is for sure is that Dumbledore is prepared to take a more active role in current events.'

Harry looked at him questionably, thumbing the cuffs of his robes.

'More active?' he asked curiously.

'Harry, you know well Dumbledore hasn't been your greatest friend all this time. I won't deny you've suffered, but this ordeal with your daughter struck him rather hard as well. He is under the impression he's failed you somehow, although judging from what you just told me, there would have been nothing he could've done to save her this pain anyway.'

'So what is this supposed to mean? I don't fully understand.'

Lupin passed him a rather grave look, and he sighed.

'When the Viridian was captured Harry, Dumbledore, being the next most senior man in parliament, naturally assumed total control over all of his assets. Particularly his space navy, which orbits Earth as we speak…'

'Go on…'

'Isn't it a little obvious Harry? Dumbledore for all his vaunted power, has been unable to defeat Voldemort. This has been a double tragedy, as you have grown quite close to him in his mind, and yet you still continue to suffer the Dark Lord… You remember it don't you? He cursed children and left them for you to destroy, just to spite you!'

Harry grimaced, his muscles growing tense as he remembered the horrible things he'd witnessed in his life on the streets.

'Please professor…' he spoke with strained composure, 'Don't speak of it again!'

Lupin looked around himself, noticing his skin felt tight as air began to constrict in the hallways. He stared at Harry, seeing small beads of sweat forming on his brow from exertion. The young man was holding Essence, he was almost certain of it.

'Calm yourself Harry. Calm down now! Don't expend your hatred for the Dark Lord on me.'

Harry looked thoroughly torn inside, as though he just realised he was on the verge of releasing his immense power. Immediately he distressed his muscles, visibly deflating before Lupin's eyes. He seemed thoroughly apologetic.

'It's ok Harry… the Dark Lord did this to you, made you what you are. You cannot help but get angry. Dumbledore feels that Voldemort will join his fleet in a combined attack on Earth, where he will be most vulnerable. It his belief that he could well destroy Voldemort and his intentions once and for all with the Viridian's confiscated fleet.'

Harry shook his head from side to side as Lupin finished, putting the haggard old man a little off balance.

'No… no he can't do that Lupin. Garcia's fleet numbers only a few hundred ships, Voldemort's is well into the thousands, and he has a Khorah Battleship. This is the most foolish thing he could possibly do! It's SUICIDE!'

Lupin bowed his head in sorrow at this, and turned from Harry, not wishing to meet his gaze.

'Yes Harry, I know. And Dumbledore knows as well, I'm certain of that. The man is in failing health you know, and current events, not least your daughter's incident, have had a most disastrous effect on him. I'm not confident he'll live much longer than a month or two, perhaps three at the most. I guess he wants to make his last days matter, at least to buy you time.'

'Time?' Harry asked questionably, 'Time for what?'

'Dumbledore has seen certain prophesies NOT come to pass as was said in the ministry of magic. Your prophesy says something to the tune of you becoming either a murderer or a victim didn't it?'

'Well… yes, but it might not even be referring to me. I told you that before.'

'Yes, well for argument's sake let's just say you are this person. If this plan of Dumbledore's ends up following the prophesy, then no matter what he will do out there in space, he will not destroy the Dark Lord himself. You could say this means Voldemort will kill Dumbledore, OR, it could mean he will jump ship the moment he comes under heavy attack.'

Harry felt very curious by this turn of events, and he pressed the older man for more information.

'Are you saying he will flee the battle?' he asked impetuously, receiving a non committal glance in return.

'It is a very real possibility, assuming of course he is even there. Though I'm sure he will be… Search yourself, where do you think he will go if he fails this battle? What is he after?'

Harry thought furiously for a moment before it suddenly struck him.

'The Department of Mysteries. He's still sore over his loss there, he wants to know what's behind that door. Dumbledore says it's the power the Dark Lord knows not.'

Lupin nodded with a hint of a smile, straightening his tattered grey robes.

'Yes… that's what he told me. Although I don't think even Dumbledore knows just what it is. That makes this situation even more dangerous, as we've no idea what would happen if he were to breach this door. Could be the harbinger for an apocalypse of sorts. And that wouldn't be good would it?'

'So how is this supposed to affect me anyway? Voldemort is no longer my problem Professor, I've washed my hands clean of him!'

It was then in an blinding instant that Lupin grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes, and pressed him hard against the wall. Harry felt so shocked that he didn't summon the energy to repel him with force.

'No you haven't!' Lupin spat viciously into his face, 'You've merely repressed your hatred for him. You've seen what he's done to you, and to your family! How…? How in HELL can you possibly just stand by and let this happen! If Voldemort gets his way, you won't have your family anymore, and it certainly won't matter whether or not you've absolved yourself of him. Who do you think will be the first he comes after once he gets what he wants! Hmm…?'

Harry's heart was beating furiously inside his chest as something of a mind blockage was released within himself. Truth was he'd intentionally repressed his hatred for the Dark Lord, as he was so tired of fighting and had dreamt of a world free of pain and suffering at his hands. That and he also wanted to forget he was an Essence wielder… A Prodigen mage. The things that Lupin said were right and all, but it was just so frustrating and hard. Despite his power, he was still blindingly scared of Voldemort and the things he was capable of. He wanted nothing more than to simply pack up his things and run.

Lupin slowly released his grasp from Harry's collar, though the younger man didn't move from his place on the wall. Instead, he slid weakly to the floor, legs giving way as his long lost emotions began to take control of him again.

'You really need to think carefully about this Harry. Since you re-entered our lives, I've seen so many changes in you I can barely keep up. The moment you landed you were angry, then you were sad, then you wanted to kill Voldemort, and then you didn't. Now with your daughter lying unconscious on a bed you still stubbornly think this will all just blow over. That creature was after you did you know? And Voldemort sent it. He will never stop hunting you!'

Lupin then lowered his voice to a whisper, yet it somehow held a weight about it that Harry couldn't quite comprehend.

'You've changed Harry, and I think it's because of Essence… Have you ever considered not using it?'

Harry shot Lupin an almost horrified look. Though he wanted it so badly to never use Essence again, he also couldn't bare to be apart from it. Something about the magic just lured him.

'One just doesn't simply give up Essence Lupin, it's not like ordinary magic, where your intent is done with an incantation. Essence is inside me, apart of me now just like my soul. It's power is beyond anything you can possibly imagine, and despite having had the other Narcissan books in my hands, I have only had the courage to absorb one. Ironic that I desire Voldemort's demise and still be afraid of becoming too powerful myself. I don't want to become a god.'

Lupin passed him a curious glare.

'You… fear Essence? I don't think I understand…'

Harry gave a wry chuckle from his collapsed position, before he slowly pushed himself up from the floor with a groan.

'No, I didn't really think you would. The power of Essence is so much that I alone cannot fully control it. Times when I have been angry, or agitated emotionally in some way have on occasion vented uncontrolled bursts of the magic, which have even threatened to tear me apart from the inside. It's not a mystical force, more so it's a type of elemental energy that weaves with it the forces of nature… earth, fire, wind, water and electricity, the very same elements that are the core of all magic. So you could see that in it's purity, Essence itself is of great power to.'

'Would that mean you could summon a thunder storm or something like that?'

Harry put on a bemused face for a second before answering the older man's question.

'Yes… that's how it is. The energy I could summon could quite easily amount to a minor storm of sorts. As for raising a city, that I think is beyond my skill level. Just as well, as I don't trust my own self control enough to use a power like that. Unless of course, I could cross the line…'

'The line?' Lupin asked in confusion, barely following Harry's little speech as it was, 'What's that?'

'Oh the line is just what I call this thing. It's kind of a weak barrier that separates my short, controllable bursts of magic, from unknown abilities that could possibly be my enhancement, or destruction. I make a serious effort at keeping my magic below a certain level of energy, for if I cross that line, even by accident, then I haven't any idea what will happen to me… Phew, I'm sweating just thinking about it. It's like walking the edge of a knife, one stray step and Essence could consume me entirely. Not a happy thought.'

'It would destroy you then?'

Harry looked to Lupin momentarily, and he seemed almost lost in thought at that moment, before he spoke with some distain…

'Possibly…'

Harry bent his low for a moment as he contemplated this thought, before he turned on his heel and walked away from Lupin, who stared after him with a curious expression.

'Hey!' Remus yelled after Harry, his mouth working a little, 'Where are you going?'

'I'm going to go back to Ginny of course. She may be upset by all this, and with me, but she still needs someone to be by her side, what with Genevieve as she is…'

'I'm sorry Harry, but Ginny is no longer in the castle…'

Harry looked to Lupin with a shocked expression, and words seemed to escape him for a time as he tried to comprehend just what the older man had just said.

'What! What do you mean she's no longer in the castle!'

Lupin tucked his hands deep into his robe pockets, feet shuffling as his gaze turned down towards the floor.

'I'm afraid I've brought you out here on a somewhat false pretense my old friend.' He began to the younger wizard, who looked back with a confused look… 'I needed to distract you whilst Ginny apparated from the castle. She knew you wouldn't approve her leaving, with the way things are in the world these days, but she's been talking of it for a while, and she no longer feels she's able to take all this pressure. This hybrid Dementor must have been the last straw for her, and at any rate it only went to convince her this was the right thing to do.'

Harry felt hollow all of a sudden, as though a constant in his life had just disappeared. Once more a familiar sensation of anger began to pass through him, and an eerie voice reverberated inside his head, Essence once more whispering to him.

"You see Harry? She's finally left you, couldn't stand you… she never could… NEVER!"

Harry tried his best to beat the voice back.

"SHUT UP!" he thought savagely to his own mind, which laughed at his futile attempt to keep it at bay. Meanwhile Lupin just stared at him as though Harry's sudden quietness should be taken as extreme anger.

'Harry?' Lupin spoke questioningly, 'Are you alright?'

"You knew this was going to happen Harry, didn't you?" the voice continued inside his head, taunting. "She must've hated you from the start, just like everyone else does. You're a Prodigen mage afterall, people fear you because they don't understand you… but they never will understand, because they are so afraid."

"Rubbish!" Harry though naively to himself, once again trying to push back the Essence voice that had continued to taunt him more and more in the weeks up until now… "They don't fear me, I am just like everyone else!"

'Harry? What's wrong? Are you alright?' Lupin asked again, becoming a little more concerned.

"Like everyone else are you? No, I fear you are mistaken young Prodigen. You are not the same. You are an angry soul, burning with hatred inside you, as well as a power few could ever understand… People don't understand what is different, they fear it. And then they hate what they fear. Just as they hate you."

"No, no, no! That's not true. You're making things up, trying to change my way of thinking. You are nothing like I am, and I will not be changed, don't think I can't see what you're doing. You want me to use Essence to kill don't you! Well I tell you I won't do it, you're wasting your time!"

Once again the voice in Harry's head just cackled with laughter, mocking his feeble defense.

"Do not believe for a second that you can resist this temptation forever Harry. Essence is destructive, you know this. It's violent and treacherous, and demands a sacrifice in blood! You will kill with it sooner or later. You'll cross that line you so very much fear to tread, and Essence will consume you alive. And when that happens my lad, it will be like fifteen years ago once more, when you almost crossed that line the first time around. How I remember the killing you enjoyed… Do you remember it, the feeling of absolute bliss you had when you released such devastating powers upon another? Remember how you felt when you killed that boy, Draco?"

Harry took a rasping breath as he remembered that moment many years ago, when he'd tracked down his old school nemesis… and destroyed him. It was something he had refused to think about these days. And not because he was ashamed that he had killed a fellow human being, but because the voice in his head was right. He had indeed enjoyed releasing Essence upon Malfoy, and the screams of his enemy had almost soothed his soul. What had become of himself?

"Don't bring Draco into this." Harry cursed to the voice in his head, "He joined the death eaters as I knew he would, and died the way a death eater was meant to."

"… on the blade of an Essence imbued Narcissan sword?" the voice questioned, regaling him of the very method he'd used to kill Malfoy. "Quite an enlightening experience wasn't it, to kill using Essence, imbued in a sword, I might add… hmm … Really Harry, why continue this charade? I know your hatred better than you know it yourself. Let caution go to the wind, and follow your feelings… What better time than now? You see him standing there, that man?"

Harry instinctively looked up at Lupin, who stared back questioningly at him with wide eyes, trying in vain to comprehend what he was thinking. The voice went on…

"You see that look in his eyes… that same fear I spoke to you of?"

"Rubbish!" Harry yelled inside his own mind, and yet he still could not help but notice the voice had a point. Lupin did look somewhat distressed.

'Are you alright Harry?' Lupin asked for what seemed like the millionth time, though it did little more than just wash over Harry, who stared back with suspicious eyes, listening more to the Essence spawned voice in his head than to Lupin.

"Yes… he fears you Harry, fears you like everyone else. And people hate what they fear, so you never really can tell who to trust. Be as I do, trust no one! Why not display your superiority of will right now?"

"Display my… err… what! What do you mean? What would you have me do?"

The voice in his head went quiet for a brief moment before it replied with a cackle;

"Kill him. Kill him right now, in this very corridor with all of your malice. What a start it would be, and wouldn't it FEEL so good? Release your power, release yourself! Kill, kill, KILL!"

"No…" Harry replied simply, and at once the voice silenced, disappearing into his mind like a ghostly echo.

'HARRY!' Lupin yelled at him suddenly, and at once he seemed to come out of a trance.

'Huh? What?'

'You alright or what, you went a bit quiet there for a sudden.'

Harry cast his eyes downward for a second, before a sudden realization struck him, and he moved suddenly towards the aged professor.

'Ginny! Where is she! Dammit Lupin you have to tell me where she's gone.'

Lupin looked to him in a somewhat depressing manner, and he thumbed the cuffs of his robes for a moment.

'I am sorry Harry, truly I am. But Ginny has forbidden me to tell you where she has gone. For the time being, or for at least the time hostilities remain, she wants to remain in hiding. I have made a magical pact with her, and I will not divulge the secret she has confided in me. This is nothing against you Harry, it's just that… well… Ginny is afraid.'

'Afraid!' Harry burst out instinctively. 'Afraid of what!' and at that the look Lupin passed him almost chilled him to the core.

'She's afraid of you Harry. Afraid of what you have become. Again, I'm sorry Harry, I realize there isn't really an easy way I could've told you that, but Ginny is not blinded by the changes in you since you absorbed that first Narcissan book. You no longer resemble the man she married those years ago. You're crueler than you once were, and take pleasure in inflicting pain and vengeance on others. At times you have difficulty in controlling your own temper, which is doubly worse for us all, as the level of power you wield could spell disaster for us all. Even Dumbledore himself no longer seems to know you, and just before he left he told me so himself.'

'Dumbledore's gone too?' Harry asked in surprise, and Lupin nodded gravely.

'Seeing as Garcia has been deposed as Viridian, Dumbledore is now the supreme commander of earth's high space fleet, how ever many hundreds of ships that is. He is currently on route to join them as we speak. Dumbledore thinks it will not be long until Voldemort's battleship arrives, and he aims to reduce the number of casualties it causes.'

'He finally did it then? He's left… I never thought he would. Don't you think the odds are severely against him Lupin? Something like a thousand to one that he succeeds! Have you any idea of how powerful that warship is?'

Lupin gave an idle shrug at this comment, merely saying;

'I tried to dissuade him Harry, for both he and I know of the capabilities the Khorah has, especially compared to other more contemporary capital ship designs… In short, it's a suicide mission, and he wanted me to relay to you that he is aware of this, even now. He wants to buy you time. I'm not sure what for but he believes in his heart that you still have it in you to do something important for us all. Remember the prophesy Harry! It's either you or Voldemort. It's up to us to make sure it is Voldemort who pays dearly.'

Harry was vaguely aware of what Lupin had alluded to, though he felt his mind was distracted. He was thinking of Ginny… Harry couldn't quite describe how alone he felt knowing Ginny was afraid of him… He couldn't describe it because he wasn't even sure he was even feeling pain. All that seemed to be there was a strange emptiness that he encountered every time he sought out emotions to match the situation. Emotions that he knew were there, but no longer seemed to exist… Was it possible Ginny might leave him? Disassociate herself with him because of the animal he'd become? The idea was hurtful, he thought, but as he looked back for a moment on his past, he realised that for all the years he'd been separated from Ginny, as Dumbledore had used him as an assassin, the changes wrought by the use of Essence would have seemed sudden and shocking to her, instead of the slow and draining change that Harry had experienced as the magic took over.

Yes, it had taken over, and now it had taken everything from him. His life, his family, his own freedom to live day to day knowing he needn't sleep with one eye open in fear of being attacked by Voldemort…

In truth… he had nothing left to lose, and was merely an empty shell walking the earth, with nothing left but the unquenched desire for revenge on the one being who had caused it all… Voldemort. 


	19. Silent Watchers

Chapter 19 – Silent Watchers

Far away from the turmoil and despair of the magic and muggle lands, amidst the raging waves of wind swept seas and pouring rain, the great stone spires of the wizard prison of Azkaban stood imposingly upon their small, rocky outcrop, battered and broken by the elements, much like the condemned prisoners within who could never call this terrible place home, let alone remember what such a place was like…  
Though the previous Dementor guards had since left this place to bolster Voldemort's ranks, an ever present darkness had forever overcome this prison of the damned, evident as much in the storming weather as it was in the minds of it's poor inhabitants… Lightning crackled ceaselessly overhead in the black rolling clouds of the night sky, occasionally illuminating the gruesome specter of Azkaban's walls, where prisoners long since convicted had been chained by their limbs to the ancient stone, becoming reminders of the fate that awaited all who did wrong, no matter the deed, big or small the fate was the same.

In the most lower depths of the prison however, one such prisoner sat tiring and alone in his squalid cell, strangely untouched by the madness that usually overcame inmates, regardless of the fact the Dementors were now gone and not to be seen…

Garcia's eyes flickered back and forth between himself and the dungeon door not two feet from him, keenly eyeing the old wooden fixture, with it's rusting steel hinges binding it solidly to the stone walls about it. A dim light shone eerily from beneath the rotting door, casting the barest rays over him as he moved himself sinuously towards it, bending enough to allow himself a slight glance beneath to the scene outside.

From his limited vantage point, he could see a lazy guard that sat propped up against the stone wall outside, keeping a pitiful sleeping vigil over his small, squalid cell. A dark cloak was wrapped haphazardly about the man, who's face was shrouded beneath a large brimmed cavalier hat, marking him obviously as one of the wardens who's sole task was to keep a "keen" watch over him at all times. Garcia thought that quite laughable, considering the consistently poor quality of such a watch, though he reasoned that were they not present, his escape would have been assured many a time before… Perhaps he was unwise in those early attempts at escape, to underestimate the wardens as he had done, though truth be told, he understood them well by now. Better he thought, than even they knew…

How many days and nights he had endured in this wretched prison he could not quite comprehend, since day and night both passed with seemingly no distinction. Only the constant drone of thrashing rain and howling wind outside ever entered his mind, and he had the clear feeling that he had been here longer than his meager scratches on the stone wall let on. Regardless of how long it had been, what was certain was that he had been here too long, and whether waiting for execution by the friends of the Prodigen; Potter, or the eventual discovery and destruction of himself by Voldemort's demonic followers, he himself was well and truly dammed if he resigned himself to a miserable fate. He was Garcia, slave to no one… The time for escape was now!

Peering out once more beneath the door, he half smiled seeing that the guards had once again rotated to his liking, this sleeping warden being the one and only one who ever kept his wand hanging vulnerably from his hip pockets. Reluctantly Garcia resisted the urge to wallow in a day dream of holding that wand, and the power he would return to himself, for tonight he would have that wand or die trying, he felt not the strength to attempt escape again if he failed tonight.

Reaching softly into the remains of his pockets, he withdrew a long slender strand of rope that he'd painstakingly handcrafted from his own hair. Bare patches now existed on his ravaged scalp, where he'd torn out clump after clump of hair in his silent pursuit. On the end of the rope he'd haphazardly tied the small piece of metal he still had in his possession, the last remains of the long steel blade he had kept close to himself should he ever need it. He was feeling it's loss keenly, and remembered all too well that it was one of the few things the wardens were quick to remove the moment he reached Azkaban, save this single, small piece. He wanted it back, there was no point denying it. Perhaps now at least he could see whether or not his own plans would come together, he couldn't tell afterall how long he'd been stuck in this desolate nightmare.

Slowly he coiled the rope around, clutching it tightly with his gnarled fingers as he spun it in circles, before he was kneeling once more by the door with most of the rope in one hand, and it's loose end swinging to and fro in the other.

Garcia uttered a silent prayer of hope as he drew the rope back, pressing his face hard against the cold stone floor.

"May my aim be true!" he muttered, and in a flash he flung the rope beneath the door, wrapping deftly around the wand's vulnerable handle that stuck out from the guard's pocket.

Garcia fought to control a raucous laugh that tickled at his throat, as he sat there momentarily amazed at his own skill. And to think that people had laughed at his throwing ability during his youth, when there were so many magical alternatives! He could not help but feel more than vindicated at this, and ever so slowly he tugged on the rope, pulling the wand inch by inch from the guard's pocket.

But without even the slightest warning, the warden moved in his sleep, and the wand dropped, clattering loudly on the stone floor below… Garcia gritted his teeth excruciatingly as the noise threatened to wake up the whole prison. But to his relief the sleeping guard merely grunted, shuffling himself once more into a comfortable position, without realizing what had happened.

Garcia released a breath he didn't know he was holding, before he slowly continued to pull the wand towards him across the floor, it's wooden surface making hollow sounds as it neared him bit by bit. He could almost feel freedom as the wand drew near, though he would have to wait until his cell was opened by the wardens, as he knew it was magically sealed from inside and out, preventing even a magical escape. That would be his time to strike, when the magical barriers would be at their lowest. It made sense enough in his head.

All of a sudden a noise echoed from the end of the hallway, and Garcia froze as he saw an elder warden walk slowly towards the sleeping guard, an unlighted cigarette twirling between his fingers. Like his own warden, this one also had a wide brimmed hat shrouding his face, though Garcia recognized a cold pair of eyes beneath the brim that glinted in irritation as they took in the form of the guard sleeping at his post. It must have been late, as the warden didn't so much seem eager to badger the guard for his poor watch, preferring instead to send a hard boot to the man's ribs…

'Get up!' the warden barked to his subordinate, 'I need a light.'

The younger warden roused suddenly from his sleep with a sharp groan, his hand instinctively reaching for his ribcage before he looked up to his superior with a feeble, yet questioning gaze.

'I want a smoke you imbecile!' the old warden badgered in a harsh tone, as if to answer the puzzled look on the other man's face. 'I've left my wand back in the keep, yours will have to do.'

'Oh,' the guard said shortly, realization striking him at last, 'Yes of course.' And immediately he began fumbling through his robes for the wand.

"Uh oh." Garcia muttered quietly to himself, a note of panic suddenly evident beneath his breath. The wand was only a few centimeters from his own cold, secure grip, but still on the other side of the door. If he was caught now, it would be the end for him, permanently!

Outside his cell, the old warden was growing impatient as the younger man continued to ruffle through his robes in a vain effort to produce his wand. Moments ticked uneasily by, and Garcia could feel a slick veil of sweat beginning to grow upon his forehead as the tension increased. The bumbling guard need only look three feet to his right to find his wand, and uncover Garcia's plot to escape. It couldn't end this way. Not when he was so close to tasting sweet freedom at long last!

'I… I don't understand,' the guardsman spoke hesitantly to his superior, hands still moving through his robes in a panic, 'It was right here in my pocket, I swear! You must believe me, it's not as if I…'

'Fell asleep at your post?' the old warden prompted questioningly, fingers tapping with some distaste upon his elbows. 'And no wonder too, drunk as you are!' and in a flash he retrieved an empty bottle of strong ale from the man's side, which he scrutinized angrily before smashing it against the wall.

'This will not do at all you know! Losing your wand in a drunken stupor AND falling asleep at your post! It's the last straw! Unless you can locate your wand and light my smoke, you can take your nap WITH the prisoners.'

At this the young guard's eyes widened in horror, and his hands seemed to speed up in search for his wand, as though he had not searched in every place over his body.

'I'll find it! I swear, it can't have gotten far…'

And at those short words Garcia gritted his teeth together, knowing full well his warden's eyes would be searching nearby. Sure enough, his worst fears were realised.

'Hey, there it is,' the young guard said, pointing towards the small piece of wood not far from him, 'I thought it wouldn't get far, but… hey, wait a minute!'

And as though at once both the guard and his leader saw the fine white strands of hair wrapped finely about the wand's tip, which snaked themselves precariously under the door of Garcia's cell…

And all hell broke loose.

'STOP HIM!' the old warden shouted in rage, pure malice burning in his eyes.

Instinctively the younger warden leapt from his position and attempted a dive for the elusive wand, only to slip and have his face meet the cold floor as Garcia yanked hard on the rope, pulling the wand beneath the door… he could hear cursing and swearing from the other side of the rotting door as the old warden fumbled with the still drunk guardsman, attempting to wrangle keys from him.

'OPEN THE DOOR YOU MORON, WE CAN'T LET HIM USE THE WAND!' Garcia could hear from the other side, amidst scuffles and a jingling of rusty keys. The commotion seemed surprising after so long in silence and boredom. Then he realised in the back of his mind… the wand!

Slowly he knelt down to the floor, picking up the wand with almost shaking hands at the power that was at last in his grasp. A rattling breath wheezed from his throat as sheer glee overcame him at just how much he had longed for this glorious moment, and at once his thoughts became pure and focused on the task.

The harsh shuffling and beating outside his door from the panicking wardens slipped vaguely into the back of Garcia's mind as he raised the wand slowly to his face, his cruel smile finally returning to him after all this time as he muttered a restoration spell under his breath.

'Restora…' he spoke in a cold voice, his blackened teeth showing through his evil smile as a purple light spurt forth from his wand and snaked around him…

Immediately his clothes began repairing themselves seam by seam, returning to their original silky, luster. Cuts, bruises and even his amputated fingers grew back perfectly healed, along with his newly ravishing white hair, which laid combed back and preened as though recently tended to. The all encompassing spell was returning everything about his body back to the way it had been before he arrived here… back to the way it should be… nay, back to the way it should always have been… And as the spell worked it's magic and his strength began to return, Garcia could not help but laugh…

The sudden click of the opening lock was all that announced the two wardens, who kicked open the door violently with their boots. The older warden was carrying some sort of firearm in one hand, waving it jerkily from one side of the room to the other, whilst his younger companion drew a knife from his robes, his eyes scanning the dark cell with a murderous glint… Yet both of them found nothing… and they both stared with slack jaws and gawking faces.

The cell before them laid consumed in darkness, and for a split second neither of the two wardens could see anything beyond their own arms.  
'Escaped? But how!' the younger warden spoke suddenly to the wide eyed superior, who's lined face grew tense with rage and disbelief that their quarry could elude them so easily… A few brief moments passed by, and the older warden took careful steps into the darkness with his gun raised before him, in order to confirm his own suspicions. Breathing in the cold, stale air of the cell, he watched for the slightest signs of movement from his keen eyes, which twitched back and forth uneasily.

More tense moments ticked by with nothing to be seen, until all of a sudden, something caught the corner of his eye, and he spun himself about as the very darkness itself moved with lightening speed, grabbing his outstretched arm and twisting it behind his back, pulling the trigger… Two ear piercing shots rang through the prison hallways as the gun suddenly fired at the shocked warden behind him, whose chest exploded in twin spurts of blood, his body flying backwards into the hallway.

The old warden's eyes shot wide open as he fought for control of his own arm, using his other to beat at the attacking darkness until it's iron grip subsided, giving him the opportunity to swing about and pepper the room in bullets. Light danced upon the walls of the cell as each shrieking bullet ricocheted off the stone walls of the cell, apparently hitting nothing.

It was then that another sudden movement in the darkness landed three blows to his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs before he found himself grabbed powerfully by the collar and thrown through the air, landing on the hard ground with a severe sounding crack as one of his bones gave way.

'ARRRGHH!' the warden screamed out in agony, his hands instinctively clutching his broken leg as he laid there battered and bruised. And it was then he heard a mad, cackling laughter, which he turned his head every way to find the source of. It seemed eerily familiar…

'Oh my poor child, did I hurt you much?' asked a contemptuous voice from within the darkness, before it broke out into laughter once more.

The warden's head twisted this way and that to find where the voice was coming from in the darkened void of the prison cell, but it seemed to speak to him from everywhere, and he could not tell his bearings at all.

'Where are you!' the warden demanded to the darkness, hoping to conceal the pain in his voice, 'Show yourself!'

A moment passed by before a short response was muttered to him in response…

'You my good man are in no position to be making any demands of me… But if it satisfies your curiosity, I cannot see the harm.' And at once the ever present darkness seemed to turn into itself until before long, Garcia's handsome form stood before him, appearing as though he had never set foot into Azkaban prison. His clothes were returned to their regal luster, and his physic was powerfully built as it had been before he had arrived as a prisoner. For a person of such an old age, Garcia showed little of it, and the guard could not help but tremble in spite of himself at such an awe inspiring sight. He was indeed a king.

Garcia's eyes took in the battered warden and narrowed, a glint unlike anything previous searing in his eyes like a rampaging fire as what was once anger, now turned to sheer malice.

'Impossible…!' the warden spoke breathlessly from his floored position, as he took in the former king's appearance. 'How could you…?'

And as if to answer his question, Garcia raised the captured wand in one hand, and twirled it between his fingers in a sinister manner.

'Never leave a good wand unattended, the consequences could be dire… First thing you're taught in Hogwarts I think.' Immediately he raised his other hand, and wiggled his fingers about.

'And look, I have all my fingers back, which you seemed so eager to take from me the first time around. Now I'm not sure about you, but I class that kind of behaviour as being quite rude indeed… But do not for a second think that I don't recognize who YOU are warden, for I endured each one of those fingers being cut off, and it leaves a foul taste in my mouth when I recall those events as they happened!'

The warden recoiled suddenly at being recognized by the former prisoner, and he grappled quickly about in the dark for his dropped pistol, hoping to end him in any way he could. But Garcia could only laugh, that cruel unending laugh.

'Don't disgrace yourself anymore than you already have you pitiful worm, I am leaving this prison one way or another, and neither you nor anyone else is going to stand in the way of my ambitions.'

A bolt of lightning flashed outside, momentarily filling the room with a blue light that revealed Garcia's face, his teeth bared in spite. His mind seemed intent and focused, and the crumpled warden could not help but feel fear as Garcia stepped forward and knelt towards him, grabbing him by throat and lifting him powerfully into the air with one hand, a wicked smile stretched across his face in delight.

'This is just the beginning of a journey for me young warden,' Garcia spoke maliciously to his captive, who dangled helplessly mid air, struggling to breath. 'But sadly for you, yours is at an end… my vengeance is assured.'

And with one single movement, Garcia closed his hand around the warden's throat, breaking his neck in a sickening display of bone and bloody gore that trickled down his arm like shiny tendrils, before he immediately threw the lifeless corpse aside against the wall, the body sliding to the ground in a pool of blood…

Garcia trembled with glee…

It felt something of a great release to have finally brought his captor to irreversible justice. But this was meant to happen, just as his escape was meant to happen… and this thought alone felt encouraging to him as he once again turned to other matters which he had only dared to reminisce upon during his captivity. The Narcissan books for one, and the power he could potentially wield with them.

Casually he turned to the crumpled form of the former warden not far from him, and he chuckled. There was yet another who he believed was destined to suffer a fate as grisly and inescapable as death itself. Another who had wronged him greatly and could offer him much at being having the life crushed out of him, or in whichever way seemed convenient at the time… Another means to an end who could lead him to the very Narcissan books he begged in his mind to absorb. And again he smiled…

'I'm coming for you Potter…' he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath as he raised his wand to Apparate, 'I shall extinguish your life, one way or the other…'

And with a pop, Garcia disappeared…

--------- ---------- -----------

As the crimson hues of dusk drew to a close in the skies above Hogwarts, slowly giving way to the gloomy darkness of night, Harry laid awake in bed, lost in deep thought as he silently stared up at the starry night sky through a window. He contemplated every event that had transpired since the day he became a Prodigen.

He could trace everything back to when he killed Grindelwald all those years back, at a time when he could remember some sense of innocence left inside of him. Truthfully he missed it, just as he missed what it felt like to have friends who cared and hung out with him for the simple sake of fun. Blissfully he remembered his more youthful days when Hogwarts was a paradise to him, and not a prison. Was it really so long ago…? He thought heavily on this, just as he thought heavily about his next move, and how he was to possibly overcome Voldemort. If such a thing were even possible…

Genevieve laid cold and dying in the medical wing due to Harry's own inability to protect his family… Surely a sign of weakness he surmised. But as Harry laid thinking, he realised much of his fears were based on his fears of weakness, of being crushed underfoot by a superior opponent. It was for this reason he had first accepted training to become Dumbledore's assassin. Something he knew for a fact was totally uncharacteristic of himself at the time. But no longer. He was far stronger now, and had overcome many a foe in his time to which he had taken a grudge. That was, every foe save the one that mattered, the one who had started it all…

When it all came down to it, everything revolved around Voldemort's insane quest for power, that would one day consume all in it's path, unless he was somehow stopped. And that left him in a precarious position.

As a regular wizard Harry knew for a fact that he wasn't extra-ordinary. Despite the obvious "Boy who Lived" title that had been pinned to him at an early age, nothing really separated him from other average skilled wizards, and there were things that some wizards were able to do that he in his youth found near impossible, even now with the aid of Essence. But that unfortunately was the nature of the magic he was utilizing.

Essence, as he'd tried to explain to Professor Lupin earlier, worked through the efficient use of elements found in nature; wind, water, fire, etc… and wasn't geared towards performing relatively complex tasks one after another, like folding up pairs of socks and packing them away in a draw. No, certainly not… Essence was only really capable of harnessing natural elements, and thus was thoroughly suited to such tasks as heavy lifting, energizing objects, and most prevalent of all… killing.

Easily could he manipulate tiny strands of air to tighten around a person's throat, or conduct such massive amounts of energy as to conjure a thunder storm. Matter was his toy to play with, and though Harry relished in the opportunity to do this, he also knew he had limits.

Instinctually he could feel how much Essence was safe to use before the burst of energy became too much to handle. Every time he felt the energy want to flare up within himself, Harry would deliberately restrain himself before the energy consumed him whole. But there were times indeed when he'd toed the line precariously close. And it was times like that, that scared him a lot.

Uncomfortably he turned over, burying his face into the pillow feeling half anxious at the prospect of what he felt he had no choice in doing. A lump had formed in the back of his throat every time he reminisced about the ancient Narcissan books that he had encountered on numerous occasions. More recently, the two he had stolen from Voldemort's lair remained in Dumbledore's care. And he had to get them back.

Unfortunate for him was that he had let his own self doubt cloud his judgment, and on more than one occasion he had handed the books straight to Dumbledore out of some belief that the old headmaster knew better than anyone else exactly what to do with them.

But that hadn't worked out well at all. Once the book of Wrapping Vines had been stolen from within the castle walls by Lucius, and that was whilst Dumbledore was present! For all his power, Dumbledore was growing old, and Harry now had the distinct impression that the headmaster's decisions were no longer as wise as they may once have been.

When it all boiled down to it, the ancient books were powerful magical tools that could be wielded with devastation by even the simplest wizard or muggle. However, if used by someone who could naturally channel Essence, like a Prodigen, the potential for destructive power was multiplied ten fold.

Each of the books was filled with thousands of different magical incantations, as well as near complete records of Narcissan history and knowledge that had been passed down through generations up until the time of the Narcissan fall, where they disappeared from the world entirely.

To a user of Essence, these books represented the ultimate way in which to increase their magical power, for the greatness of Essence was only matched by the greatness of the Narcissan civilization itself. Constantly was Harry learning new abilities from the original book he'd absorbed, as knowledge passed to him from it would gradually unfold in his mind.

From the first book, he'd learned over a thousand years of Narcissan history, which detailed many of their greatest triumphs and failures. And with it, were the countless ways the Narcissans had learned to manipulate matter with Essence. There were things about Essence that Harry knew for a fact he was unaware of, and he felt for certain that the other books were the key to it all.

Yet there was so much he could only guess within his mind. So much that he had no proof to go by. There was no real evidence to suggest he would learn more from absorbing another Narcissan book, save for his own experience with the first. And once he believed he had envisioned the fall of the Narcissan civilization in a dream, yet he no longer even felt sure of that. So much had happened since he had come back, he was having trouble keeping up.

Harry yawned wide as a familiar tiredness began to wear at him, and he couldn't help but feel the oppressive weight of his eyelids. But he thought on still, thinking on just where Dumbledore would've taken the Narcissan books for protection from Voldemort, or worse… from himself. Many possibilities surfaced in his mind, but as it stood Voldemort had absorbed three books to bolster his already formidable magic, and he alone had absorbed but one, leaving the balance of power distinctly in the Dark Lord's favor.

For certain however, the books could no longer remain neutrally unclaimed, just waiting for someone to steal them… oh no, he should use them now whilst he still had a chance to equal his power with the Dark Lord. But as far as finding them was concerned, Harry felt neither the strength or energy at the present moment to find where Dumbledore was keeping them. That task he would leave for the morning when he was more alert, but for now, he felt nothing better than to wallow in his dream filled sleep, being watched over by the starry night sky…

-------------- -------- ------------------

As Harry slowly drifted into sleep, his mind receding into the world of vague sub-consciousness, entirely was he unaware that another presence was watching him silently, invisible to the naked eye…

A beautiful young woman with curling lochs of brown hair watched Harry quietly with pursed lips, her existence in the room being not of the physical world as we know of it, but rather, of another plane of existence that was undetectable, whereby she could stand and watch over him for hours on end and never be seen…

Such was the way of Tomovah, the dream world that existed in parallel with our own, just as it did with Limbo, to which it was a complete opposite to in every way. Tomovah was an ethereal plane, where unlike the Limbo universe, people needed to reach a certain level of enlightenment to enter, rather than to simply be sucked into it through misdeeds inherent throughout their lifetime. 

For many days and nights the lady entered Tomovah and watched this boy, unable to interact with him in any way, be it sight, smell or touch. But it was a pilgrimage none the less to continue her vigil, for she knew it in her dying heart how much the infinite threads of the future would depend upon the deeds of this Prodigen. For it was his choices in these moments of time that would determine the fate of thousands of otherwise doomed souls, including those of her own people, whose fate also rested with him.

A brief tingling sensation on her skin announced the arrival of another spirit into Tomovah, and as she turned around, she expectedly met eyes with another of her kin, who politely offered a bow in return as her misty appearance slowly became solid.

'Lareene…' the newcomer greeted with a reverent tone in her voice, eyes downcast as a mark of respect.

'Sister…' the lady returned, and the newcomer rose slightly from her position, formalities observed. The both of them looked towards the sleeping man, eyes measuring him gravely.

'It fascinates me sister,' spoke Lareene after a weighted pause, her eyes fixed onto Harry's lined face, 'How we in our age can find strength from this youngling I cannot grasp, he would barely be in his mid thirtieth year would he not?'

The other lady nodded, her eyes also taking Harry in measuring way.  
'True, yet in our youth do we enact our greatest feats Lareene, only in our age can we see the outcome of such rationale that to our younger selves would be unconceivable.'

Lareene smiled slightly, her hands folding together as she looked to her right at the younger woman.

'As true as a text book might say sister, but I needn't something prophetic to reflect upon our current circumstances. This… boy I stare at, I cannot understand his logic or reasoning, especially when confronted by our books… and especially when it is so alarmingly clear as to what he must do.'

'Perhaps it is inability to understand the decisions of youth that signifies we have lived too long already. Granted the boy is young, yet he cannot possibly see things in the light that we do, we are afterall over three thousand years senior to him.'

Lareene nodded gravely, smoothing down her swathing silk robes as she considered Harry, whilst she stood totally invisible to his own world. She breathed a deep sigh. Ever since the casting, Lareene had continued to exist, more so as an echo of her former self, rather than a living, sentient being. Entering Tomovah was the only way she could return her body to it's earlier beauty for any extended period of time, rather than what she resembled now in the physical world… a monster. 

'I haven't any idea as to what is left for us to do sister, he is the only one I would ever be willing to pass down our knowledge to, so that we may bring our people everlasting peace in death. If I could in any way guarantee this outcome, then I will have died happily knowing our secrets were passed onto worthy hands. For what we have in this day is naught but a shadow of our former selves, and the people in this time cannot possibly understand about us. We Narcissans are from a time long forgotten, and sometimes I wonder whether I was right in separating our inner strengths into those four books. After what it did to our people I just don't know…'

The other woman placed a comforting hand upon Lareene's shoulder in sympathy to her, for she had the weight of over three millennia worth of torture weighing upon her mind. It felt like only yesterday they were standing in the Glyph caves as Lareene performed the act of separating every person close from their Creation and Essence, of which were hidden away in their near lost books. And then there was the agony, as their bodies reacted horribly to losing this most powerful magic…

Now the Narcissan race existed only as corporeal wraiths, neither living nor dead, yet bound to this world, unable to pass over into death. Why that was Lareene could not understand, however, she had theorized that perhaps it was the separating of the Inner strengths that had done it. Had she in fact cost her people their souls?

'Peace now Lareene, you knew not of what may occur with our separation from the inner strengths. We chose to follow you in this path, and we have not deviated from our part in this. Our loyalty is still firmly within your grasp, and I trust you will know how to help this boy.'

Lareene wiped away a tear quickly and nodded, trying to steel herself and appear more composed before one of the masses who believed in her so strongly three thousand years ago when she caste them herself.

'Thank you for your loyalty sister, but I know not what more we can do to direct the course of this boy. I have sent him psychic premonitions… even my own personal memories, to which he has seemingly neglected to act upon. He is too fragile to begin to comprehend on his own just how powerful the gift of Essence is, and yet he wields barely a portion of his true potential with such unrelenting hatred, that I fear the stress may prove too much upon himself. He dares to pull more power from that which he does not have, and it is showing, for Essence is beginning to tear his body apart from within.'

The other woman looked sadly towards Harry, disappointment spread across her face.

'You refer to the graying of his eyes? Or the ice in his sweat?'

'Both,' Lareene answered simply, 'And they are but the beginning. He needs greater knowledge of Essence if he is to survive. Trying to pull elemental energy from Essence he doesn't have is going to destroy him sooner rather than later. That he has absorbed only one of our books and lived for thirty or so years, has astounded me to no end. I am still struggling to comprehend why he survived so long.' 

'Perhaps it is something in his physical makeup we don't quite understand that is allowing him to take greater and greater punishment from the Essence he carries… After all Lareene, he is not Narcissan like we are. He is a descendent of post caste parents, people who already have the barest visage of the inner strengths inside them from after the casting. Maybe there is something about that fact that has allowed him to live on past what we expected.'

Lareene crossed her arms and looked towards Harry with serious eyes.

'Yes…' she concluded in a matter of fact tone, 'And no matter why that is the case, he remains our greatest hope. I only pray he does not succumb to the Essence that is intended to be his salvation. He needs to absorb another book.'

'Is that so!' spoke another voice behind her, and the two women instinctively turned around in a shot, coming face to face with a handsome young man who they did not recognize.

'Who… who are you!' Lareene questioned immediately, rounding on the man. Her female aide stood by her supportively, but said nothing to the intimidating man, whose cold eyes seemed to pierce into them.

'Who am I…?' the man asked in a somewhat sarcastic, yet sinister tone, 'Hmm, who indeed'  
Dressed in a voluminous black robe, the man pulled his hood back to reveal a fairly young face. Lareene estimated him to be about twenty five or there about, yet there was something about him, something Lareene could not quite put her finger on that chilled her inside when she stared at him, and unknowingly, she took a hesitant step backwards.

'Please good lady,' the young man spoke in a mockingly soothing tone, 'Do not feel intimidated by my presence here, I am merely an observer just like you.' 

Lareene's eyes narrowed at his brief comment, but she willed her heart to stay composed.

'I do not understand, only Narcissans know of Tomovah, and for what reason would you have to look upon this boy any way? Your motives would pale in comparison to ours.'

'Really…?' the man replied simply, passing Lareene an ominous stare. 'As I understand, you refer to the ascension of your own race…? Yes…? I guess that is good enough.'

Lareene felt her aide shuffle uncomfortably beside her, as she herself questioned as to how he could have known what their motives were for watching this boy. Could the man have been watching them the whole time?

'You are not someone I am familiar with young man…' Lareene spoke harshly, looking down her nose at him, 'But I am deeply familiar with my own kin… so you must not be Narcissan.'

The man's face broke into a hardened smile.

'Well done. For someone of your age you are unusually astute. But I take it not all Narcissans are like you are they? Your face tells me that you are one of a kind, something different than that of your kin. Correct?'

Lareene straightened her face as she realised she was staring blankly at him. The man's words were playing around inside her head, and she could feel a taunt in his words that was not necessarily apparent. Strangely, he seemed familiar, for she had encountered him before, she was certain of it. But who, who was he…?

'Enough of these word games!' Lareene barked, her patience running thin, 'State your business here in Tomovah, or be gone!'

The man didn't seem to react at these words much, but rather, he smiled once more as he took a calculated step towards her, looking deep into her eyes.

'I am what I said I am. I am but an observer, and I am here to observe him.' He shot a quick, scathing look over towards Harry, whose slumbering form had turned onto his side.

'For what purpose? What possible value would he have to you?'

The man looked curiously at her during this moment, and pondered briefly what she had said. A spark of thought seemed to flash past his eyes, which Lareene noticed were curiously black.

'The purpose, of which I look upon this boy is for no other reason than to know him, for he and I share a somewhat curious bond, which you may or may not understand. Harry has drawn my fascination for many years now, and I have watched him in this manner for quite some time.'

The man went silent of a sudden and looked once more to Harry, who laid asleep, completely oblivious to the conversation. His black eyes widened at the sight of Harry's slumbering form, and he bared his teeth slightly in what looked to be distaste. He turned to Lareene once more.

'Does he fascinate you as much as I?'

Lareene stared back blankly, unsure of exactly what to say.

'No?' the man asked in an amusing tone, 'Rather odd that don't you think? Harry here is gifted with your age old magic, and thus…' he raised a finger to illustrate his point, '…he is a hope for the Narcissan future that you never believed could ever come about… Oh come now, I've seen how you stare at him every time you visit Tomovah, I myself have been here more than once I might add, so you could surmise I've learnt methods of keeping my presence hidden. Ah so many questions to be answered.'

'Like who you are for starters.' Lareene shot to him quickly, taking a step forward. The man didn't move, but seemed instead to ignore the statement entirely.

'I wonder Lareene just how you could imagine this… boy, as you put it so eloquently, could possibly be the Narcissan savior you make him out to be.'

Lareene looked sideways to her aide, who stared back with a mixed expression of doubt and shock, unable to believe the words spurting from the man's mouth.

'How do you know of our goal!' Lareene asked in a skeptical tone, the man stared back with bored looking eyes.

'I listened to your conversation before, so it should hardly seem a surprise to you that I know that. But you didn't answer my question Lareene, why do you place such faith in this boy? Why, when it is clear he is so weak!'

'The boy may very well be young, but he has strength greater than you know!' grated the other lady suddenly, who had stepped forward to support Lareene.

'SILENCE GIRL!' hissed the man, his eyes narrowing to vengeful slits as he stared her down. The young woman retreated slightly in shock, and the man rounded on Lareene once more.

'This BOY, is but a weak fool who has tempted a great enemy one too many times. He is unworthy to receive the gifts of Essence that you trumpet so proudly, and he will be crushed underfoot by this ancient magic without a shadow of a doubt. He… will… die! And your plan to save your kin will die with him!'

'BLASPHEMY!' shouted Lareene's aide, who drew back her arm to let loose her fury upon the man. But in a flash, a sliver of steel spurt forth from the man's back, slicing a bloody arc across the woman's face. She recoiled and shrieked, falling backwards and disintegrating out of Tomovah…

Lareene screamed in terror and tried to escape, only to be stopped in her tracks as a powerful hand clasped itself tightly around her throat.

The man stood imperiously as he pulled Lareene towards himself, lifting her from the floor. Lareene dangled there helpless as she struggled against the man's grip, her own hands trying to pry his fingers from her neck.

'Fool…' the man grated. And the world about them shone bright as they disappeared from Harry's bedroom, into a wide expanse of white mist that stretched as far as the eye could see.

But as soon as light penetrated Lareene's eyes, a giant shadow covered them that moment, and as she looked up, she saw the forms of two enormous metal wings that sprouted from the man's back, flexing back and forth to the sound of mechanical humming.

'Impossible…' Lareene coughed as she swung midair, her eyes transfixed upon the wings. She remembered a time before the casting, before Essence and Creation had been purged from people's minds, when such wings had been common place. The knowledge of their construction had been lost to the world since the casting, but Lareene had ensured it remain inside the Narcissan books, should a worthy being chose to resurrect the use of Essence.

But since this man was not Narcissan, it left only one possibility of exactly who he was…

'Vile one!' Lareene spat as she hung there uselessly, 'You are the one who seeks to kill the boy!'

Pulling back one of his hands, the man pulled his hood over to once again obscure his face. But as he spoke to her, his voice changed from an arrogant grating, to a sinister hiss that chilled her inside.

'That I am Narcissan, but do not believe for a moment that your ancient magic, powerful that it may be, can possibly save your kin from my power.'

And with seemingly little effort, he hurled Lareene across the ground, her body landing hard.

'Your power!' Lareene spluttered as she tried to heave herself up, 'Everything you wield is but a shadow of what we Narcissans possessed! For instance, those wings on your back are merely copies of our age old design. Everything you know of us and our power is derived solely and inexplicably from our books.'

The man smiled beneath his hood, only his grinning teeth showing in the darkness.

'Maybe so Lareene, but there are many things in this world that you do not know. Three thousand years of hiding underground can do that to you…'

And in a gruesome display, the man's hands turned scaly and gnarled, long curved claws stretching from his fingertips. His body beneath the robe twisting and contorting in violent spasms as he willingly changed, snake like scales forming over his face, to which Lareene could see teeth extending into long blade like visages. The monstrosity gripped and writhed until the changes finally subsided, leaving the man in his true form, which even Lareene could not possibly imagine in her darkest dreams.

There before her stood a creature that was part human, part snake, and part… something else. She had seen it's like in visions and nothing more, and had thought little of it at the time, and yet, here it stood. With scaled skin that bore a pallid, yet metallic sheen, and mechanical wings that held the look of cruel blades, only one word could come to Lareene's mind as she stood there, mouth gaping…

'Voldemort…' she whispered. And in an instant the creature's face looked to her, a pair of glowing yellow eyes taking her in as it's mouth curved into a tooth filled smile.

'There can be no other…' he replied simply, his wings spreading wide to display their enormous entirety, shrouding the two of them in deep shadow.

Lareene stood her ground as Voldemort walked towards her, his wings making grinding noises as they loomed overhead, flexing back and forth slowly. As he neared he stretched out one of his gnarled hands and opened it, his glowing eyes narrowing to slits as he stared at her.

'The last book…' he spoke in an echoing voice, 'Give it to me, now…'

Lareene stared at his open clawed hand for a moment before she looked up at him and shook her head negatively, refusing him.

'No… I don't have it.' She answered him bluntly, keeping her chin high.

Voldemort's eyes pulsed brightly in anger, and in a flash one of his wings pivoted sharply and shot towards her, it's sharp tip spearing Lareene through one of her shoulders.

'I grow very impatient Narcissan… Tell the truth!' Voldemort spoke calmly, the point of his other wing winding it's way down in front of her face. Lareene inched back slightly as the blade like tip neared her.

'Your kind yearns for death… I could most mercifully oblige.'

'Then why don't you?' Lareene asked him in a pained tone, staring insolently towards him. 'Why not kill me when you feel it so easy to do so?'

She knew well that Voldemort feared something of her. What exactly she was unsure, but she prayed inside that Harry would absorb the books and find it within himself to confront this dark wizard, and end him.

Voldemort gnashed his teeth momentarily, the tips of his wings twisting inside Lareene's shoulder in an excruciating manner. But without a moment's notice, he yanked hard, withdrawing his wing tip from her body and letting the woman collapse to the ground with a yelp.

Voldemort flexed his clawed hands as he took a few steps backward, his eyes glowing beneath his eyes in anger at Lareene's insolence.  
'The conflict that rages on land and space is a matter of power between those that have it, and those too weak to seek it.' Voldemort started with a hiss, 'It does not in any way concern your kind at all. Therefore I warn you Narcissan, keep your brethren away from Harry Potter, or suffer the fate of your friend, your kind shall.'

Lareene pulled herself to her feet, and used weaves of Essence to quickly heal her shoulder wound until she stood there completely unharmed. She stared off at Voldemort with determined eyes, who stood a few paces apart from her with his teeth bared.

'I see the fear in you Voldemort,' Lareene spoke with guile, folding her arms together, 'Why else would you threaten me if not to dissuade the Narcissans from attacking you themselves? Why not if it keeps us from protecting Harry Potter?'

Voldemort stood there momentarily in pause, weighing Lareene with hateful eyes. He smiled slyly, chilling Lareene more than when his face was angry.

'All but a defensive measure,' he spoke underhandedly, playing with Lareene's mind, 'I know this woman I look upon now is not the present form you take Lareene, allow me to remind you of the cruel reality you face…'

Voldemort raised a hand casually and wafted it in Lareene's direction, a soft pulse of air traveling towards her. Lareene stood there as the air surrounded her, consuming one of her hands. For a moment she knew nothing of what this air did, but as it settled the air revealed what truly laid beneath Lareene's skin.

A hand as gnarled as Voldemort's, and with claws to match, was visible to her as the air surrounded her. Her body in the real world, was far, far worse…

Lareene stared at Voldemort with a renewed vigor in her eyes, after being exposed for what she truly was beneath… A monster like him.

'You will never retrieve the last book Voldemort, Potter will have it and reduce you to dust with the power it contains. You kind was never meant for this world!'

Voldemort chuckled, and turned his back upon her, folding his bloodied wings neatly behind himself.

'Potter will die at my hand, the way it was meant to be. As for you however, heed my warning and remember… Stay AWAY from the boy, or I assure you, you and your kind will know my hatred… forever.'

And with that, the Dark lord disappeared into the mist, leaving Lareene alone in Tomovah... 


End file.
